In Love With The Darkness
by ToryTigress92
Summary: Loki/OFC. Loki has ruled Earth for seven hundred years, watched closely by the inhabitants of Asgard. Now, Loki searches for his new queen, and a young woman, previously a member of the resistance against Loki's rule, is forced to remember her past life as love and an ancient desire rekindle when she is forced to become Loki's bride.
1. Part I: Fighting For The Future

Part I: Fighting For The Future

* * *

_Former New Mexico, Earth, 2712 AD: Seven Hundred Years After The Defeat Of The Avengers and The Rise Of Loki…_

The golden heat of the desert rose from its dusty floor as the sunset's last tendrils of shining light faded from the sky.

It cast a heavenly glow over the smoking battlefield that stretched across the desert, misty wisps still rising from the burned out husks of hover cars and bikes, the tiny bodies of humans and the hulking ones of Chitauri warriors strewn across the dyed sand, crimson in the sunset.

There was a flash of silver light and a group of twenty men and women appeared as if from thin air, all clad in black leather jumpsuits and overcoats to protect against the quickly falling temperatures of the desert.

One, clad in a silver robe over her jumpsuit, a hood covering her face, rushed forward, a small black satchel banging against her hip as she ran.

She bent over the fallen body of a young woman, blood draining from a severe head wound, laser burns all over her body.

"Eira!" someone called, a middle-aged man with a bow and quiver slung across his muscular, leather clad back. "Be quick! We haven't much time until Loki will be here!"

The woman looked up, sombre grey eyes looking up at the man, before looking down at her charge. "This one still lives," she breathed. "Have Aidan and Reuben transport her to base."

The man motioned, two others rushing forward to take the injured woman, while Eira moved on to another, pausing only a moment before shaking her head sadly and moving to another.

The skirts of her silvery robe pooled around her, glinting in the scant light of the moon as it began to rise over the distant horizon, a wind picking up and chilling Eira's skin.

The King was coming.

Her companions felt it too. "Eira, hurry!" he snapped.

"I know, Peregrine!" she replied tersely, her eyes dwelling on the carnage around her. It had been a nasty fight; Resistance against Chitauri, and in the end, neither side had triumphed.

It was all so pointless.

* * *

It had been 700 years to the day since Loki defeated the Avengers and took control of Earth, or Midgard as it was now known. Eira had heard stories about that final fight, the last stand of Captain America and Dr Bruce Banner, the capture of Iron Man and the legions of Chitauri he took out before the King subdued him, keeping him alive for his genius. Thor had been sent back to Asgard, since the new King did not want the whole of his former home taking up arms against him. Odin had forbidden retaliation against his younger son, and so the Asgardians watched instead.

It was for decades that the Black Widow and Hawkeye eluded him before he finally caught them, joining their remaining living comrades in mindless slavery under Loki's control, serving their new King as his most loyal vassals and warriors, their former free will destroyed. Their decades of freedom had served them well, however. Black Widow and Hawkeye had left behind a child before they were taken, and that child's descendants still lived and fought in the Resistance even so many centuries later.

One of them stood before her, watching her closely, his bow now in his hands, an arrow nocked and ready.

The temperature readily lowered, and Eira shivered. He was close.

She stood and closed her eyes, calling on the sense she'd possessed since birth that would tell her if any still lived among the heaped bodies of the dead.

She found five more, three merely unconscious from laser wounds, the other two more severely wounded.

She hurried over to them, her robe flashing in the moonlight. One possessed a broken arm, and a bleeding gash in his leg which looked like a Chitauri had tried to take a bite out of him. She applied a splint to the broken limb, rubbing a salve on the bleeding gashes to halt their flow, and then closed her eyes, placing her hand on the man forehead. She searched deep within, looking for the wellspring of that sense which had told her he was alive, and then drew it out, into her veins and down to her hand. She forced it into her patient, enthusing his blood with some of her own vitality, pulling him from the darkness he lay in.

His breathing, still shallow, became regular and smooth. With a sigh, Eira opened her eyes and nodded to the recovery party. Two men rushed forward, taking hold of the man gently and disappearing in flashes of light, leaving Peregrine and Eira alone with the last of the injured.

Eira stumbled as she stood, Peregrine grabbing her elbow to steady her. It always took it out of her when she pulled someone back from the brink.

"Eira…" he began half-heartedly, but Eira just glared at him. He sighed. "Where is the last?"

She nodded over to the very edge of the blood-soaked battlefield, pushing away from the man and rushed over, pushing away her tiredness.

It was a young boy, barely sixteen, new to the Resistance. He was only just alive.

His chest gaped, blood pouring sluggishly from the wound. He would need transfusions when he got back to base. Eira gritted her teeth, spreading her hands out together, thumb to thumb and placed them down on the boy's chest, concentrating.

"One of these days you're going to kill yourself doing that," Peregrine hissed, watching the skies warily for signs of Chitauri or worse, the King.

"And one of these days, Peregrine, you're going to come back to base with a wound you can't laugh off, but you don't hear me complaining," she snapped back.

"Yeah, well. I'm just an archer. You're the only healer we have," he huffed, but Eira smirked anyway.

"Nice to know I'm appreciated," she quipped, before she sobered. "Now quiet! I need to concentrate unless you want us both to end up in one of the King's holding cells."

Peregrine fell silent, but he glanced up at the sky pointedly. Eira returned to her task, readying herself for the weariness she knew would come.

It was not quite true that Eira was the only healer in the Resistance, but she was the only one to possess this skill. She did not know if she should call it magic, or genetic mutation as was once rumoured to be not uncommon before Loki took control. Now all children born with the genetic markers in their blood which denoted mutation were taken and brought up to be the bodyguards of the King.

Not that he needed them, really. But they served to intimidate and to suppress rebellions. Eira was surprised there were not any there tonight. The few which escaped Loki's grasp ended up in the Resistance; likewise the few children born with the inherent ability to resist Loki's mind powers, to shrug off his manipulations and control, were taken and spirited away to relative safety.

She and Peregrine were two such people, with the gift to remain free.

Eira had been brought up in the Resistance, never staying in one place, always moving if they caught the slightest sniff of discovery. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and she had never known her father. She had been raised by one of the Resistance healers, where she had discovered her talent one grey morning after an attack which ended in disaster…

* * *

_The emergency medical bays were filled to breaking point with wounded men and women, all bloodied, all burned. Healers rushed around, helping those they could and closing the eyes of those they couldn't._

_Little seven year old Eira stood beside a low cot, staring down at the bloodstained man lying on top, eyes staring at the ceiling as he shook from the gashes and burns on his chest and arms._

"_Help…me," he gasped, one hand reaching out to her. Without thought, she touched his fingers, and then collapsed._

"_Eira!" an elderly woman with plaited hair of steel grey, and wearing a grey jumpsuit, rushed to her aid. She pulled the child away, holding her in her thin, wiry arms. "Eira, you foolish child."_

_But the man on the cot sat up, eyes wide not from pain now, but awe. His wounds had been healed._

"_She…she healed me," he gasped. "She touched me a-and she healed me!"_

_The healer stared at him, before Eira stirred in her arms, blinking up at her with wide grey eyes. "Jaina?" she asked. "Jaina?"_

_Eira looked at the bloodied man, now hale and whole, and looked back to her carer. "Jaina, did I do something wrong?"_

_Jaina could only stare in shock at the little golden-haired child watching her for signs of displeasure or anger. As she looked into those wide eyes, she glimpsed something which sent shivers down her spine. She remembered it from the one time she had seen King Loki Laufeyson up close, an aura of power, a sheen of magic flashing in his bright eyes as he had released his power and the power of the tesseract…_

_She saw it in her charge._

_Eira could do magic. Not a mutation, not a strange quirk of DNA but magic…_

_Jaina told no one what she had sensed. Not even Eira. The man she had healed died a week later, in another attack, the worst they had suffered at Loki's hands since the beginning of the Resistance._

_No one knew, although many suspected. But none could know for certain, and Jaina made sure to keep Eira blind to what she truly was. She would not see that sweet child used as a pawn or a weapon._

_Worse, she did not wish for the King to discover her. Who knew what he would do if he took her for his own…_

_No, she kept it a secret until the day she died, three years later when their base was falling down around her ears, and she gazed up into the cold, menacing eyes of the King before he turned her into a statue of ice, a satisfied smirk lingering on his cruelly sensual mouth._

_But Jaina smiled too. Because Eira had got away, and her existence remained a secret to the King. The last mortal magic-user remained free. And she would set them all free, Jaina was sure of it. Her surety warmed her even as her body froze, and he shattered her with a blow from his sceptre._

* * *

Eira gasped, pushing herself away from the injured boy, her hands bloodied and shaking. Peregrine rushed to her side as the tiredness took her, and she struggled to remain upright.

"He's ok. He's going to live," she gasped, her gift taking its toll. He nodded grimly, releasing her to pick up his charge, slinging him over his broad shoulder. Eira rolled her eyes through her weariness.

"Always your usual gentle self, Peregrine," she shook her head, pushing away the dizziness as she stood, her hood falling back to reveal long, dirty, lank blonde waves of hair, her face smudged with dirt. She had not been able to bathe in weeks.

She was slender and tall, taller than all in the Resistance except Peregrine and a few others, but she was compact, hard muscle lining her skeleton, and no excess flesh to make her look womanly. Only her face showed any sign of her femininity, the gentle planes of her cheeks and forehead, the clear skin, when it was clean which was rare, and the intelligent grey eyes which watched everything with a coolness like ice.

* * *

A warning shout from Peregrine made her spin, eyes flashing up to see a Chitauri warship bearing down on their position, the wind howling in its wake. Eira felt static fill the air, the first signs of magic being used, and lunged for Peregrine. The wrist strap he wore flopped open to reveal a keypad and a blank screen. With Eira hanging onto one arm, the unconscious boy over his shoulder, he typed in a code and they disappeared in a flash just as another came, and mortals in the black and green of the King, as well as Chitauri, poured over the desert, surrounding a tall, elegant man in green and gold armour, two arching horns standing proudly from his gleaming helmet.

As his minions searched for survivors among the dead, his cold eyes fell to the space where Eira, Peregrine and their patient had stood. He felt the residue of technology, like a living aura vibrating around his hand as he stretched it out, flexing it slightly.

One of Stark's inventions, he decided. He had been useful before his death some centuries earlier, but it appeared someone had managed to leak out details of his inventions for his King. Sometimes, he wondered if his control over the genius had been as complete as it had been over his comrades. It worried him that his control was not complete even now, hundreds of years later. There were still those born into his realm who could resist his power, and eluded him even now. He had heard rumours of them, of the descendant of Hawkeye and the Black Widow, Peregrine Romanov, and of the mysterious healer, and more.

A cold, cruel smirk stretched his thin lips as Loki disappeared in a flash of emerald. The rebels were gone, but he would find them all, one day. After all, he had eternity and they had only decades. And when he did, they would either bow to his will or perish.


	2. A Raven In New York

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

_Resistance Base 1, in the ruins of New York City, former United States of America_

The night was dark when Eira finally left her patients in the medical bays, and slipped outside into the ruins of the once great city, grey robe, just poking from the long overcoat she wore. Her eyes roved over the burnt out shells of skyscrapers, eroded by time and nature, the city utterly silent.

A ghostly reminder of the past.

When Loki had opened the portal which allowed the Chitauri through, New York had been the first to fall, and then they had spread across the Earth like a plague. After the United Nations had unilaterally surrendered, Loki had left New York as both a monument, and a warning, of his power and glory, and what befell those who resisted him.

No one lived there now, except for strays, so twenty years before the Resistance had moved into the myriad tunnels that were all that was left of the NY subway. They fortified them, secured them and expanded outwards and downwards, so if any Chitauri came to call, they would have a hard time penetrating deep enough to capture anyone. What was more, several escape tunnels had been dug, with high-speed transports made from the old subway cars, that led out to the wilderness that had sprang up beyond Manhattan Island.

Fallout from the battle still lingered in the air, making the area a satellite black spot. No form of surveillance, beyond primitive radios and sonar, worked and so the Resistance had had to be creative in their communications methods.

Now, Eira stood at the ruined top floor of what had once been Stark Tower. Looking around, at what had once been so full of life and energy and intelligence, it made her sad. And angry.

Not much was known about Loki. They had limited files on him, gleaned from SHIELD before its demise at the height of Loki's invasion, and they did not tell much. Eira herself had seen the security footage of his attack and theft of the tesseract when he first came through. Even then, he had been deadly, and seven centuries had only enhanced his powers.

Some days, Eira wondered if they would ever take him down.

She looked up to the stars, and closed her eyes, enjoying the cold breeze and soft moonlight on her face. Up here, it was peaceful, silent. She wasn't surrounded by the dead and ailing, and she could just…exist.

Opening her eyes once more, she eyed the glistening stars, unveiled by the clear night, and envied their distance. Nothing ever touched them, nothing ever could. They were eternal, untouchable.

Her eyes drifted sideways, to the darkness surrounding them, and exhaled heavily. She had never told anyone, and never would, but in the darkness of her room, she felt its power running through her, and yearned to give in to its blind embrace. To escape her difficult life, and to allow it to rule her. She had always ruthlessly suppressed it, refused to let it rule her.

To do so…meant subjugation, and surrender. Not only were those forbidden words in her world, but so another side of her rebelled against that impulse. She would never give in.

She gave in, the King would win.

There came a harsh cawing sound behind her, and she froze. Turning her head slightly, she saw a sleek black raven, sitting perched on a fallen metal bar, watching her with a beady eye.

She frowned, her jaw dropping slightly open. Ravens had been extinct on Earth since…well as long as Eira could remember. It was said that Loki had purposefully had them all hunted down and exterminated, for some reason.

It cawed once more, as Eira turned to face it entirely. She tensed as a shiver ran down her spine at the familiar look in this raven's eye, as it watched her almost…knowingly.

A raven. In New York.

Suddenly, it cawed, as if in farewell, and took flight and she caught her breath as it spread its wings and soared away. Abruptly, the comms unit at her belt buzzed, and she took one last look at the dwindling sight of the bird, before she turned away.

* * *

She slipped back down into the tunnels, and walked briskly through the corridors of the base. She felt a familiar presence behind her, and smiled. "Peregrine," she nodded coolly. The archer strode beside her, his rangy muscles tense beneath the dark tunics he wore. She eyed him questioningly. "So, any idea why a gathering has been called?"

A gathering was the name they used for the meetings of the top officers of the Resistance. Eira was the chief medical officer, Peregrine one of the highest ranking combat leaders.

Peregrine shook his head, grimly. He had inherited his ancestors' legendary taciturnity, but Eira was longed used to that. He had basically raised her, after Jaina had died.

"I have my suspicions," he eventually explained. "The King has called for a selection. Apparently, he intends to try again."

Eira swore under her breath. The last selection had been before she was even born.

Loki had been trying, for centuries, to produce offspring that was as long-lived as he, but so far he had failed. His Queens rarely survived their first pregnancy, and even then, the children were mortal. The last Queen, Helena, had died in childbirth, and her child had died with her. That was a century ago.

So Loki wanted another Queen, and another chance at progeny. Eira pitied the poor wretch who was forced into his bed.

But why call a gathering over it? She felt a shudder run down her spine, and tried to tell herself she was just tense from her time on Stark Tower. The sight of the raven had unsettled her.

The pair walked in silence, along the austere corridors, until they reached a wide, almost cavernous chamber. The brickwork of the tunnels was exposed here, and primitive lighting flickered weakly in the shadows above their heads.

The further down into the tunnels, the colder it got. Eira found herself shivering slightly beneath her robe and overcoat, but ignored it. Being cold wasn't exactly a novel sensation in her short life.

Eira had never been exactly sure how old she was. Jaina had been the only one who really cared, and after her death, she had just grown up. Concepts such as birthdays were just fairytales, stories from a gentler time. Peregrine didn't know, and he had only joined the Resistance after Jaina's death. She guessed she was in her mid-twenties, but there were days she felt far older.

Sometimes, she would just look at something, and that feeling would steal over her. A feeling of knowledge and longevity. And then there was her…magic.

It had always been instinctual. She had no knowledge of learning, or of practicing her skills, she just _**knew**_. She just knew.

Suddenly desperate to break the silence, she glanced to Peregrine and caught his eye. "I saw a raven up on Stark Tower," she breathed softly.

"A raven, huh? You sure?" he asked, a slight smile breaking up the grimness of his face, crow's feet just starting to make their mark at his eyes. "Well, I'll be damned."

A group of people waited for them at the far end of the chamber, around a large, functional table. The pair nodded to the group, respectfully, and to the man sitting at the far end.

A man named Hall had led the Resistance for as long as Eira could remember. He was tall, dark-skinned and bald. Dull brown eyes watched them come closer, calculatingly, enough to make Eira want to shift under his gaze.

"About time," he rumbled. "If you'd be so kind to sit, Romanov, Haden?"

Haden had been Jaina's surname, and she had given it to Eira.

Eira and Peregrine glanced at one another uneasily, before taking seats on either side of the table. Once everyone was settled, Hall sat up and got to the point.

"The King is calling a selection. We know he means to take a bride and continue his attempts to produce an immortal heir," he began. "This is our chance."

"What shall we do?" one of the others asked, leaning forward onto their elbows. "Security will be tight, too tight for an assault."

Hall shook his head. "Not an assault, but an assassin," he replied gravely, his deep voice rumbling through them all. Eira breathed a secret sigh of relief; she did not relish the idea of a slaughter. One casualty was enough. "Loki would be expecting an attack, so we go in another way."

A chill went down Eira's spine, as Hall's eyes met hers, and she could have sworn they turned gold for one moment. She blinked, and the vision faded.

"You want to send in an assassin among the brides," she murmured. Hall nodded, as muttering erupted around the table.

"It can't just be anyone," he continued. "She has to be attractive enough to get close to the King. And able to duck suspicion."

Eira felt Peregrine tense beside her, and knew what was coming. Hall's eyes turned to her. "Eira, would you volunteer?" he asked. The table exploded, as several others protested her going, either because of her abilities as a healer, or on account of her beauty, or lack thereof.

"It will be simple," Hall called over the ruckus. "Get in, kill Loki. The war will be over; the Earth will be free once more. Is that not what we have all fought for, for so long?"

His piercing gaze circled them all, and Eira felt the jaws of the trap draw shut. With a stiff nod, she agreed.

"We have four weeks. You're not to go out on retrieval anymore, and you're to receive double rations to get some weight back on you," Hall told her firmly. "You're dismissed."

* * *

Eira paced the small square that made up her room, running her hands through her hair. Her head whirled, and she could barely think. Peregrine sat on the bed, watching her.

"You can't do it, Eira," he told her quietly. "You're no killer, no assassin. You're a healer!"

"I know that, Peregrine!" she snapped, still pacing, her grey robe flaring with each movement. "But I have no choice. Hall's given this to me, and if I succeed, the war will end. We can set the people free."

"It's a suicide mission, Eira," Peregrine shook his head. "Loki's palace is filled with his forces, Chitauri and mutant. Escape will be almost impossible; and _**that's**_ if you even succeed in killing him. You're not a killer, Eira."

"How long have we been fighting, Peregrine?" she asked, turning to him, head high, jaw firm and her arms folded. She seemed to shine with an inner light, regal and commanding, and he sighed. "Seven hundred years! Seven centuries, the Resistance has fought and died to free our people. We have a chance at ending this; _**I**_ have a chance at ending this. Isn't one life worth that?"

"You're too young for that kind of talk," he replied heatedly. She rolled her eyes.

"We don't even know exactly how old I am," she countered, before taking his hands and pressing a kiss to them. "Peregrine, I am doing this. I will kill the King, and there is nothing you can do to stop me or dissuade me. So instead of arguing, help me!"

"I didn't promise Jaina I would take care of you just to watch you throw your life away!" he replied, a shadow of old pain rising in his eyes. Eira sighed, and turned away. "And what of your…gift? What if Loki senses it and takes you?"

Eira felt herself go cold at that notion, but she forced it away and stood tall. "That is a risk I'll have to take," she replied coldly. "I would rather die than let him take me."

"Spoken like a brave idiot," Peregrine shook his head. He looked away, and sighed. "I can't do this. I can't watch you kill yourself and pretend it's ok."

He left her room, and Eira closed her eyes. She backed up and sat on her bed, burying her head in her hands. God, what was she getting herself into?

She thought of the King's cold jade eyes, seen in video footage, and shuddered.


	3. A Fateful Meeting

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

_Midgard City, Central Europe_

After Loki's defeat of the Avengers, and the surrender of the UN, he had quickly reordered the world to his preference. After the war, the human population had been severely depleted, and Loki had all the remaining humans brought inland, to a sprawling city that spanned several former European countries, there to keep better control over them.

Countries on the periphery of Loki's new kingdom were sparsely populated, and those included the former USA, South America, Australia, Africa, the Far East and even the United Kingdom. They had elected councils, illusions of democracy, that ruled over those regions and reported directly to Loki, and in turn, took direction from him. Of all the countries under his dominion, Loki had shown greatest favour to the Scandinavian countries, allowing people there not to live exactly as they had before his rule, but mostly unmolested. He had a home in what was once Norway, in the mountains, remote and isolated, as well as heavily guarded.

Eira had never seen Midgard City, although she had heard tales of it. Sure enough, as the transport rushed towards the shining metropolis, she felt her pulse rise with a heady mix of fear and excitement.

If only she were visiting under more peaceful circumstances.

As she sat by the window, her hair cleaned and brushed, her figure slightly better filled out after four weeks of double rations, her healers robe and jumpsuit replaced by civilian clothing, she wondered how something so evil, so malevolent, could create something so beautiful. Despite the sprawl that met her eye in every direction, green seemed to explode everywhere. There were open spaces and wooded parks everywhere, and Eira could see a kind of order to it all, as if the greenery was providing borders and boundaries to the different areas of the city.

The architect, obviously long dead by now, had been a genius.

The transport seamlessly glided over the city, towards a landing port near the political, social and business hub of the city, not far from the precincts of the royal court. Eira could just see it in the distance.

The sight of it made her heart race and her stomach drop in unease.

The selection was tomorrow. Tomorrow, one way or another, she would very likely be dead.

She hadn't said goodbye to Peregrine before she left, with just Hall and few others to see her off, with the two men sent to keep her safe and escort her. And to 'extract' her, supposedly, if she survived.

She was under few illusions she would survive. She was never an optimist.

Eira took a deep breath, and sought the strength to see her through the day tomorrow.

* * *

The city was not as Eira had imagined it. She had expected a slum, suffering, people starving in the streets. Instead she saw order and security. No one wanted for anything; there were no beggars in the streets.

It had to be a clever façade. It had to be, because Loki was a tyrant, and she had seen firsthand his cruelty, his ruthlessness. She had lived in fear of it since she was a child.

They took up residence in a boarding house not far from the royal courts. The street outside was littered with the guardsmen and women of the King, striding past in their dark uniforms and cloaks of rank, steely eyes bent straight ahead, too high to meet the eyes of lesser beings.

Her two colleagues were posing as some merchant businessmen to get her into the courts tomorrow. She would join the procession during a vulnerable section, before it passed through the tunnels beneath the courts. It would be the most crowded, so it would make it easy for her to slip into the column of women unnoticed.

Eira felt too sick to her stomach to eat, but she forced down the meal. It was finer than anything she had ever eaten, and she appreciated the taste better, but it was fouled by the knowledge it was her last meal. Her escorts said little to her, and she went to bed early, staring up at the ceiling of her room, her clothes for the morning already laid out on a chair.

At last, unable to sleep, she rose from the bed and sat beside the window, looking out on the great city until the sky turned pink with the dawn. She looked towards the courts, and inhaled sharply.

"Our big day," she murmured, thinking of the King and her gruesome task. "Are you ready for it?"

For all her bravado, Eira did not feel ready.

* * *

Her intention was to allure. To attract, therefore she would not wear virginal white. She might have no idea of fashion, but she had an idea of how to dress herself. Her dress consisted of a rigid black bodice, that accentuated her slim waist and gave her the illusion of curves. Gloves of the same fabric as her bodice covered her arms but left her shoulders and collarbone free. A stolen black jet choker was clasped about her neck.

The skirts of the dress were a peachy beige, overlaid with intricate black lace like a spider's web. They clung to her hips, before flaring from her knees. Despite its appearance, the material was flexible enough that it would not impede her running, if she had to.

Eira brushed her hair, now a shining honey gold, and styled it in a complicated plait she had once seen Jaina do. Her hair trailed down her back like a rope of gold. Apart from a circlet of silver, that denoted her as a member of the selection, she wore no other jewellery. Taking a deep breath, as she looked at herself in the mirror, she nodded.

She was ready.

"Miss Haden," one of the men stopped her just before they were to leave, Eira now obscured by a black cloak. He offered her a sheath and harness, which she took, and removing one of her gloves, slid it on before replacing the garment. The knife was coated with a chemical compound, a poison. One cut, and not even the King's superior physiology would be enough to save him, or so boasted the resistance scientists.

They passed quickly through the streets. Soundlessly, one of her companion disappeared, to provide a diversion along the route, while Eira and her other escort hurried to the infiltration point. She was too full of tension to feel anything but desire to see it over with.

Crowds lined the streets, guards preventing them getting too close as the women selected to appear before the King emerged from their various residences, all cloaked in black, all beautiful, all meek and submissive, as Loki's power over them ensured. Eira would need to imitate them perfectly to avoid suspicion.

They reached the tunnels entrance, and waited. Suddenly there came a commotion, further down the line, and Eira was shoved forwards as the mutant guards rushed to stop it. She caught herself, stood straight but head bent, and walked into the court with the rest of the broodmares.

* * *

She was aware only of the passage of soft-shod feet as they passed through the stone tunnels, cold, lit only by emerald flames that leant an eerie glow to the old stonework. The way was lined by more guards, their icy eyes watching the prospective brides intently, waiting for the telltale shift of the eyes, or twitch of the hand, that would betray an assassin, or someone not under the King's control.

Eira remained completely still, yet her heart felt like it was hammering in her chest, as they came to a halt. She heard a strange chirping noise, and with a mental shudder, realised there were the infamous Chitauri guarding them as they came to a large, wide stone chamber. From the shadows of her hood, she risked a glance upwards.

The chamber was large, rising far above their heads like an old Christian cathedral. Mutants and Chitauri lined the walls, the latter holding their ominously glowing pikestaffs.

Eira had healed far too many wounds inflicted by those weapons not to know their lethality.

Directly in front of her, where she was stood in the second row, dead centre, was a large balcony, a green banner with the King's crest hung behind it. She dropped her eyes back down, her body longing to tremble as fear and anticipation rose, and her hands shifted beneath the shelter of the cloak. Soon, soon.

"Remove your cloaks, and kneel for your King," a voice barked harshly, and Eira dropped to the floor with the others, mentally gritting her teeth in a snarl. She heard footsteps, and then a voice rang out across the chamber.

"Welcome, my ladies," the King's voice was smooth, silken, seductive. His tongue caressed each word before it left his mouth, and something stirred inside of Eira, something…unknown, and yet familiar. A warmth pooled inside her stomach, and she had to restrain a gasp. "This is a joyous day. Today, I will select one of you for the honour of becoming my Queen."

Egotistical bastard. Eira hid her reaction, but risked a glance upwards.

What she saw changed everything.

Dark hair, shoulder-length and straight, framing a pale, cruelly sensual face, inlaid with two dark emerald eyes that burned as they roved over the assembled ladies. His strong, expressive hands were outstretched as if in benediction, and they seemed oh so familiar.

Every facet of his features, every line and curve of that handsome face…she knew him.

Her breathing accelerated, and his eyes suddenly flitted to hers, pinning her where she stood, she knew her cover was blown. She was discovered.

But she could not move, and it seemed neither could he, as shock and rage and grief filled those green, green eyes.

And his lips formed one word. "Eir."

* * *

_The two boys hid behind the tree in the gardens, watching the golden-haired little girl happily playing with her ball. Both were clad in royal tunics, but they were both as different as night and day._

_The dark-haired child reached out a hand, and snapped his fingers. Suddenly the girl shrieked as her hair caught fire, and the two boys set about laughing._

_Suddenly the flames were extinguished, and the girl spun around, eying them angrily. _

"_Just who do you think you are!" she shouted, marching towards them, her ball forgotten. "Setting a lady's hair aflame! I will tell your Mother!"_

_The boys just laughed, and the dark-haired boy did it again, the flames leaving no damage on the golden waves but they made her jump and try to bat them out._

_Suddenly she knocked into him, pushing him to the ground, and he lost control of the spell. He cried out as his hand was burned and her hair began to turn to ash._

_He hastily undid the spell, and even returned her curls to their former glorious state, but she just glared at him once more before pushing him over and running from the gardens._

_He watched her go even as his brother laughed and clapped at his brother's tricks, an odd tightness in his chest as he eyed the golden locks, like spun sunlight, that he had so nearly destroyed._

_Later, she was sat alone in her secret place, watching the sun set when she felt his presence. She did not turn to look at him, and her face was cold._

_He sighed. "I am sorry," he murmured. _

"_That was a mean trick to play," she replied coolly, yet she at least looked at him._

"_I am sorry," he repeated, sincerely. The girl turned to look at him, hazel eyes meeting his defiantly._

"_Prince or not, you should be," she snapped, before her eyes fell to his hand, which still sported the burn from his trick. "You are hurt."_

_She grabbed his hand, and he felt a cooling sensation as the burn faded then disappeared altogether. He smiled, and laughed as he looked up. "You can heal. You have magic," he sat down beside her. "Will you teach me?"_

"_Maybe," she muttered, turning back to look at the sunset, but a small smile now flirted with her mouth. "My name is Eir."_

"_Loki," he replied, before the pair watched the sun set over Asgard, in companionable silence._

* * *

Eira wasn't even aware that she had doubled over, a deep pain inside of her as heat rushed to her every extremity, because she couldn't take her eyes off of those emerald orbs that ruthlessly held onto hers, with a longing and a hunger that had replaced the rage.

The word left her mouth without conscious thought. "Loki…"

Why had she done that? Panic rising in her breast, she turned to run, even knowing what would happen, knowing she was too late.

She was stopped dead as a Chitauri took aim and hit her in her stomach with its weapon. The pain felt only numbing as she sank to the floor, the women around her still meekly standing with their heads down, and an enraged shout filled the air.

"No!"

She slowly sank to the ground as her legs failed her, until strong arms caught her up, cradling her gently as her head lolled back. Pain-filled hazel eyes met the eyes of the King, and Eira thought she should be feeling some kind of panic right now.

"Eir," he breathed again, too low to hear.

"My King?" a voice asked, and with a growl he seized the throat of the Chitauri that had wounded her and ended its life with a brutal _snap_ of its spinal cord. She was in too much pain to care.

Her eyes closed, and she hoped to whatever deity truly existed that she might die. Otherwise…

The King would have the last free magic-user in his grasp. Her mind could not grasp what had happened, that strange vision, the pain deep within her core, her loss of control.

She couldn't grasp it, and her mind was too pained to try. She slumped against the King, as he laid her on the floor, his hand splaying over the wound in her stomach.

"Rest, my dearest," he told her gently, and had she been fully conscious she could not have credited the tyrant as the gentle man comforting her and healing her wounds. "You are safe now. You are with me now, at last."

A cooling sensation washed over the burning, and she shuddered with relief. Her eyes opened for one moment, meeting the King's as he caressed her face, wonder and disbelief in his eyes.

The darkness crept in at the edges of her vision, and though her mind told her to fight, to escape, even to carry out her mission then and there, she was too weak and her body too ready to succumb, as he passed his hand over her eyes, magical force drawing them down.

"Rest," he told her one last time, and she gave in, sinking gratefully into a dreamless sleep.


	4. The Rebel And The King

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

Eira groggily awoke, her body cradled by something soft and yielding, cocooned in warmth. It made her want to turn over and burrow into whatever was covering her body. Every muscle felt sore, weak, like she'd been running for miles until she just dropped.

She was far too comfortable, and warm, as she had never been in her life before, to stir, even though something lingered at the edge of her mind, something important…

"How long will she sleep?" a voice asked, somewhere near her, somewhere close. She thought she felt fingers in her hair, against her cheek, but she couldn't bring herself to care. "It has been three days. The healing should not have exhausted her this much…"

That voice sounded familiar, but the warm haze over Eira's mind wouldn't let her identify it.

"I know not, my King," a different voice spoke this time, and she didn't recognise it. "The wound is healed, but the exhaustion I think must come from another cause that we don't know of."

"What of the DNA profiling I ordered?" the first voice asked coolly.

"She is not human, as far I can tell, my King. Her DNA does not match ours; while about 85% is identical, there is a further 15% that is entirely new. I have never seen anything like it," the second voice replied dutifully, but with a thread of excitement that even while sunk in her glorious, hazy lethargy, Eira recognised. Then it turned wary, as if nervous. "It matches, to some extent, the few samples of Asgardian DNA we have, from SHIELD."

"Nor will you again, physician," the first voice chuckled. "She is unique. As to the similarity to the Aesir, I am not surprised. Very well, you may go," the first voice dismissed the second, sounding almost impatient, and a phantom feeling of exasperated fondness washed over Eira. Those fingers returned, before cool lips pressed against her forehead. "Awaken soon, dearest. We have much to discuss…"

Those lips and hands disappeared, and Eira sank back into that warm haze gratefully.

* * *

The next time Eira felt consciousness beckon, she was not so weak. She still felt tired, but as she opened her eyes, she felt that warm lethargy dissipate. She blinked, as her vision focussed, and as it sharpened back to its usual clarity, no amount of Peregrine's advice and training over the years could stop her from tensing.

The ceiling above her head was a delicately, exquisitely painted mural of the evening sky, midnight velvet dotted with glinting stars. The constellations weren't the ones Eira had looked up at every night of her life since she could remember, but they were…familiar.

She couldn't say why, they just felt it.

From the corner of her eye, she glimpsed white linen and silk beside her head, and wrapped around her torso. She tried to keep her breathing deep and regular, and carefully listened.

There was no one else in the room.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Eira carefully pushed herself up, glancing around the room. Her jaw dropped. If she had thought her room in Midgard City had been the most luxurious she had ever seen in her life, then she had been sorely mistaken.

The room she was in now was palatial, like something out of a book. She was laid in a large, soft bed, pillared by two intricately carved wooden posts, carved in the likeness of tree trunks twined with ivy. From her vantage position, she could see the rest of the room, painted in light golds and dark greens. The effect was almost hypnotic. Every piece of furniture, every table, every statuette, painting, rug, even down to the small, low-slung sofa she could see before the marble fireplace, all were exquisitely made.

She had a very bad feeling about this.

Cautiously, Eira slipped from the bed, testing her weight on her feet. As she slid her legs out of the coverlet, she felt something cool and light glide down her bare legs, and looked down to see her body clothed in gently clinging lavender silk. If she shifted, or looked closely, she could see swirling, intricate patterns in white against the fabric.

It was also quite sheer, enough to make Eira blush. Glancing around, she spied a sheath of mint green embroidered with gold. She slipped it around her, and wondered at its cool softness. She had never been so richly dressed, as she brushed the trailing locks of her hair out from under the collar.

As she tied the laces of the robe, she tried to remember all that had happened after she had joined the procession of women in the capital. It was blurry, indistinct.

She reached the main audience chamber, she remembered that. She remembered the King's entrance, his words, and then…

Images flashed across her mind, of a dark-haired child, and golden hair marred by red flames, and two hands lying side by side before a sunset…

She started when she heard the sound of footsteps coming towards her room, and frantically looked around for something, anything to defend herself with.

The door opened, and it was too late. To Eira's surprise, it was just a little servant girl, barely twenty, dressed in a simple white dress, clean and new-looking, her dark hair tied back from her face. She curtseyed sweetly, and to Eira's surprise, she didn't look quite so meek and controlled as those she had seen in the capital.

"The King awaits you, my Queen,"

Eira stared at her, eyes wide. _Queen…?_

She glanced once more at the room around her, at the robes she wore, and gasped as more images flashed across her mind's eye.

"_All hail Eir, Queen of Asgard," he called. Eir started, as the men bowed again. _

That familiar pain blossomed inside of her again, and it took everything she had not to bend over with the sharpness of it. It faded, and she realised she must have at least grimaced, because the servant girl was watching her worriedly.

She remembered. She'd had…that vision, that hallucination, whatever one could call it, and then she had been discovered. One of the Chitauri had shot her, and then…

Eira absentmindedly felt her stomach, and felt the smooth surface under her robe and dress. Unmarred, perfect.

The King had healed her.

"My Queen, are you well? Should I fetch a healer?" the servant asked again, concern leaching into her voice, stepping forward.

"No, I'm alright," Eira raised a hand, stopping the girl's advance. "Where is the King?"

"On the terrace, my lady," the girl smiled now; seemingly relieved her mistress was well. "I will show you the way."

Eira knew what she should do. The girl was small, and although Eira was only just awake and healed, and still tired, she could overpower her. She had been raised on the run, living in fear. She knew how to overcome physical fatigue in order to function. She should overpower her, find some method of escape and contact the resistance.

But she couldn't. She didn't know where she was, how long she had been ill, or if her two escorts were even still alive. She wouldn't last two minutes on the run if she was imprisoned somewhere remote, and if the King came after her…

No, she would play along, for now. Besides, she was curious about the vision she'd experienced when her eyes had met his, and she hoped he might give her answers. Yes, that was what she would do. Rest, heal, regain her strength and get some answers.

Wordlessly, she followed the little servant girl from the ornate room.

* * *

The corridors of her prison were cold marble, pale as alabaster, and deserted, as they walked as quickly as Eira could manage down the long hallways. Her heart twisted in mingled dread and anticipation, as the girl stopped before a large wooden doorway, dark mahogany and chased in intricate designs that seemed pregnant with meaning, as Eira stared at them, but she didn't know why or what they could mean.

"Through there, my Queen," the little girl nodded to the door, before curtseying and turning to walk away.

"Wait!" Eira called after her. "What is your name?"

"Anna, my Queen," the girl, Anna, curtseyed with a sweet smile, and walked away. Taking a deep breath, Eira turned to the doorway, and walked determinedly outside.

The view that met her was breathtaking. She stood on a marble terrace, the walls behind her covered in trailing ivy so the cool marble was obscured. She stepped out from beneath the arch, her eyes tracing the graceful domes and spires of the palace stretching out behind her, onto the mountainside.

From the terrace, an emerald lawn stretched down, to the edges of a glistening lake that stretched for what seemed like miles, fenced in by majestic mountains, one of which reared its proud head to the sky not two miles away, by Eira's reckoning. Nearby, beneath birdsong and the murmuring of the lake, she could hear the distant roar of a waterfall.

It was warm, a soft breeze caressing her face, teasing at the locks of hair falling over her shoulders. It had been so long since she had felt the sunlight without fearing for her life, that Eira closed her eyes and let herself bask in it for one precious second.

She felt his gaze like a heated brand on her skin. Silently, she opened her eyes and turned to face the man who had enslaved her planet and her race, who had killed millions in his lust for power and domination.

The man who had saved her life.

He stood before her, hands behind his back, dark hair brushing his shoulders, his pale skin gleaming in the sunlight, his strong, lean body clothed in dark leather, his emerald eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that made her wonder if she should be fearing for her life.

Those eyes…so dark they almost seemed black to her, from where she stood, but as he moved, she saw the flash in them, like a pine forest at dusk, or in the inky hours before sunrise. They were like twin whirlpools, sucking her in, tempting her to…what?

Eira tore herself away, turning her back to him, willing herself not to react. If he thought her a submissive wretch, he would be mistaken.

"So, you are the mysterious healer I have heard much of. The one whose touch alone can bring injured warriors back from the brink of death," he began, his voice a husky, seductive murmur, yet even when he was not acting a tyrant, a hint of the command which always seeped from him remained in his voice. "And the resistance sent you to me."

"So glad we could be of service," Eira muttered sarcastically. For some reason, she felt no fear. "I warn you now, my _**King**_, I will never submit to you. So your efforts on my behalf are wasted."

A chuckle, liquid, sinful. "I doubt that," he stepped forward, his surcoat brushing against her back. "I am relieved to see you back on your feet. You were either exceedingly brave or exceedingly foolish attempting what you did. Tell me, did you know it was a suicide mission when your leaders told you to kill me?"

Eira tensed, but did not turn around.

"And yet to hesitate when your goal was within reach…" he continued as her silence drew on. "Tell me, why did you stop? Why did you give yourself away?"

Eira's eyes closed as she felt him move behind her, so close, so warm against her back, his mouth at her ear.

"When you looked up at me," he breathed, and she felt his hands gently ghost over her arms, not quite touching but near it. Her every cell was afire, and her head was screaming at her to move. "I thought you a dream, or a wraith, rising from the past to haunt me. Eir…"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured fiercely. "And my name is Eira!"

"You felt something when you looked up at me, did you not?" he replied, doggedly, and Eira reminded herself to keep her cool. She would be of no use to anyone if he lost his temper and killed her. "That is the only reason you reacted, the only reason you would let yourself react. What did you see?"

"I saw nothing," Eira replied coldly, yet even as she spoke the words, the vision rose up in her mind again, and this time, unmarred by pain, she felt a wave of contentment wash over her. Of belonging…

"Eira, I am the God of Lies in mortal mythology," he breathed in her ear, as he nuzzled her honey gold curls. "You cannot deceive me."

"I-I don't…." Eira tried again, but the words wouldn't leave her mouth.

"Hush, now, my Queen," he breathed, and Eira felt it like a tangible caress against her skin. She felt her body weaken, and then his arms came around her, holding her tightly against him.

She was being held by the tyrant holding her world in a grip of iron, a murderer, a monster. The man she had been sent to kill.

And she was sinking into his embrace like it was the most natural thing in the world. It _**felt**_ the most natural thing in the world.

She closed her eyes.

_She stood there, how long she didn't know, watching and waiting for something she didn't know, her breath short in her chest, her mind whirling. Familiar arms slid around her, but she could not take comfort in their embrace now._

"I will help you, dearest. I will help you remember," he whispered in her ear. "For centuries, I have waited, and now I have you once more, my Queen."

Eira's will snapped back into being, as her eyes opened, at that possessive but tender breath against her ear, and she was horrified to realise she had sunk back against him, her head resting against his shoulder, his chin against her hair.

With a snarl, she whipped out of his hold, backing away as he turned to her, his eyes wide and seemingly hurt, but with an edge of darkness that Eira did not want to acknowledge sent shivers down her spine.

"You will never have me, that I can promise you," she snapped forcefully. "I want nothing of you, except to see you dead and this world freed of your tyranny."

The King's eyes darkened with anger, before a truly wicked smile appeared, and he stepped close.

"Do not bet upon it, my lady," he hissed, stepping closer. Eira stood her ground defiantly. "We will return to the capital in one month, where I will present you to the court and to the people as my Queen. I suggest you resign yourself to that reality."

"I won't give in," she replied firmly. He chuckled, and that dark laugh sounded like sin itself. To her surprise, however, he did not say anymore, or move closer, just turned and began slowly walking away.

"Perhaps you are curious where we are," he called back to her, as she cautiously followed after him. Eira didn't want to admit she was curious. He turned and pointed to the lake, silvery blue, shining in the sunlight. "That is Lake Lovatnet. We are but a few miles from what was the village of Loen."

Eira unconsciously moved closer, losing herself in the view, beautiful, before her eyes travelled to the elegant fingers pointing out the landmarks to her. "That is Mount Skåla, near the waterfalls you can hear, which are called Ramnefjellsfossen. My home when not in the city."

"Of course, because being a dictator gets too exhausting sometimes," Eira rolled her eyes sarcastically. The King chuckled.

"Things are not as black and white as they seem," he replied. "You will learn that soon enough."

Eira turned to face him, angered by his callousness, and he laughed at her. As their eyes met, his face grew hard, and his eyes blazed with an intense hunger that both frightened and enthralled her.

"You belong to me now," he told her, stepping closer, herding her back against the marble railing. "From the moment you stepped foot in that audience chamber, you belonged to me. So fight all you wish, my dearest, and all the more will I relish your surrender."

"And the more I will relish the look on your face when you realise how delusional you are," she hissed, even as his hands came around her waist and held her tightly against him.

"My, what a spirited mouth," he replied, one corner of his lips quirking upwards. Eira was frustrated by how familiar that motion seemed, like she had seen it a thousand times before. "It will soon be put to better use."

Anger overcame any confusion in Eira's mind, and she raised her hand unthinkingly at his presumption. He caught her wrist, tightly but not cruelly, just enough that she could feel his strength and what he could do, if he so wished it.

And who had control.

"You tremble, sweetheart," he murmured, capturing her eye and as he bent his head to her hand. He kissed her unresisting palm, and sensation tore through Eira's body.

She had felt such a sensation before, she knew it, her body knew it, but she had never lain with or encouraged affection from any man in her life. What was happening to her?

"Perhaps you should rest some more before dinner," he finished, his emerald eyes laughing wickedly as he pressed a kiss to her inner wrist, chuckling softly as her pulse thundered against his tongue.

His grip loosened, and Eira made her escape. She was no coward, but she feared what her torn body and mind might do if she allowed him to continue. His words were like poison, infecting her every cell until she burned. Familiarity and an inexplicable yearning filled her, and everything within her screamed for her to turn back.

But she did not.

Had she done, she might have seen the anguish in the King's eyes, and the hand that had held her wrist closing into a shaking fist.


	5. You Can Not Kill Me

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

Eira quickly returned to her bedchamber, although not to rest, but to pace, thinking hard.

She had not really gained any answers, not really, except that the King apparently believed her to be someone she wasn't. Eir…

The name sent shivers down her spine, and she sat down heavily on the bed. The similarity to her own name made her uneasy. Unfortunately Eira knew nothing of Norse mythology, so she had no way of knowing who she was.

She still needed to confront him further. She could not escape, not yet, and if the way her knees were shaking was any indication, she was still recovering from that strange episode before she had been shot.

Loki would be on guard though. She had not been exactly submissive, had all but told she planned to escape eventually. But if she suddenly submitted, he would be suspicious anyway, so she would need to slowly appear to give in, and keep up her defiance in the meantime, to make him lower his guard.

The thought of giving in made Eira shudder, but it couldn't be helped. It was the only way she would escape him and get back to the resistance, likely after they returned to the capital.

And in the meantime, she would get as many answers from him as possible about this Eir and her strange hallucination in the audience chamber. It could prove useful.

Eira's eyes shut and she winced as a wave of dizziness washed over her. Loki hadn't been wrong when he'd sensed her tiredness. She was exhausted again, both physically and mentally, by their confrontation, and her bed was all too inviting. No point martyring herself, and slowing her recovery, just because she was currently the prisoner of a tyrant. Eira was pragmatic, not stupid.

Removing the long green and brocade robe, she gladly slipped back into bed and closed her eyes, refusing to think about the way he had looked at her, or held her so tightly. No, she wouldn't think about that at all.

* * *

Decided and self-assured once more, Eira rose from her bed and idly began to explore her room further, peering into the many jewelled caskets and boxes on her dressing table. She couldn't hold back a gasp when she peered inside, to find what look like a sea of glistening jewels.

Her fingers trembled as they glided over the cool surfaces of intricately made necklaces, bracelets, rings, diadems and earrings. The jewels of a Queen.

Imagining the six women before her, who wore these jewels as Loki's Queen, her brow twisted, and she closed her eyes, feeling ill at the sight of them. She would never wear them.

Suddenly the door opened and Anna walked in with a curtsey. "The King sent me to help you dress, my Queen," she explained. A slight smile lit her face as she spotted the open box in Eira's hand. "Aren't they lovely, my lady? My King had them specially made for you while you were ill."

Shocked, Eira replaced the box as Anna bustled across to a wardrobe, opening it wide.

Anna was too busy to notice the stunned look in Eira's eyes as she drew out a white dress, overlaid with gold brocade, and laid it on the bed. "I've drawn you a bath, my lady, and I think this one will look good on you-"

"Anna," Eira interrupted her suddenly, drawn from her daze. "Are you happy here? Is the King good to you?"

Anna frowned, a quizzical smile on her pretty face. "Of course, my lady. I do what I do, and the King is nothing but kind to me. He gave me work when my parents disowned me because I would not marry the man they wanted me to," she explained. "I know what the resistance say about him, but…I do not see it. Would he be that way if they did not defy him?"

Momentarily Eira was stunned speechless, as the little maid just smiled and curtseyed. "The bathing chamber is just through here, my lady."

* * *

Once she was bathed and dressed, Eira sat at her dressing table while Anna hummed a soothing lullaby and dressed her hair. She really didn't want to be pampered and dressed like a doll, but she was still reeling from Anna's words.

It had to be the conditioning, it had to be. Loki's magic working its foul effects. Even if he had helped her, out of genuine care, one good deed did not erase so many centuries of evil.

Eira raised her eyes to her reflection in the mirror and started. Thanks to Anna's skilled fingers, her long hair had been pulled back and pinned away from her face, but left cascading down her back in soft curls. Her skin shone, and the white and gold of the dress only heightened the hazel of her eyes.

The dress Anna had picked out was alluring and beautiful without being overly revealing, the white silk draping her scant curves flawlessly. Like it had been made for her.

It had all been made for her.

Eira's eyes dropped to the boxes of jewels, and she shivered as a familiar throb of pain washed over her, right in her gut.

* * *

_She was stood in a great, gilded hall, surrounded by men and women, some in flowing robes, others in shining silks._

_She was walking away, desperate to get out of the long, elegant but uncomfortable gown and coronet she wore. As she walked away purposefully, she caught the eye of a tall, stately woman in a bejewelled robe, smiling ruefully._

_It did nothing to hide the concern in her warm eyes, as she shook her head._

"_I will transform you into a princess yet," she called warningly, as the others laughed. _

_Her name…Eira knew her name…_

"_Frigg."_

* * *

"Frigg."

"What did you say?"

Eira's eyes snapped open, as the pain faded, and she realised she had spoken aloud. In the reflection of the mirror, the last person she wanted to see was stood behind her, hands behind his back, draped in dark leather, emerald eyes burning.

Loki.

His expression was almost angry as he stalked forward, and Eira remained still at the dressing table, paralysed by his burning, anguished eyes. She tore free, meeting his gaze defiantly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, with all the venom she could muster.

"Anna grew alarmed when your eyes closed and you would not respond to her," he replied, stopping behind her. Something, some instinct in Eira's mind, told her it was a bad idea to let him get too close, to stay in such a vulnerable position, but she couldn't move. "She came to fetch me. I am not in the practice of repeating myself, Eira, so I will be do so only once more. What did you say?" he all but snarled, and his hands gripped her shoulders tightly. Almost tight enough to hurt her.

"I said…" Eira didn't try to dissemble. He'd caught her, loud and clear. "Frigg. I said Frigg."

Abruptly the hands caging her shoulders gentled, and the hungry expression in Loki's eyes faded, as he bent over her. Eira could barely breathe from the change, from angry to tender, and she closed her eyes.

His lips feathered the spot where her jaw met her skull, then her ear as she shivered. "Good girl. Now that was not so hard, was it?" he breathed, silkily. Eira saw no reason to pretend any longer.

"Who is she? The woman I saw? Frigg?" she asked, looking away. The name felt so familiar, it was almost frustrating. "She was beautiful."

"Yes. She was," was all Loki said, in a calm, quiet whisper, almost turning away from her, not meeting her eyes.

Intrigued, Eira watched him, but saw he wouldn't say anything else. She straightened her spine, and turned to face him. "If you're thinking you can buy me, it won't succeed," she gestured to the jewels and her dress. His look was swift and sharp, before he simply smirked and chuckled, shaking his head.

"You think I would lower myself to 'buying' you?" he asked, approaching her again, and Eira stiffened, although she tried to remain nonchalant as he drew nearer, her heart pounding against her chest.

"Why else would you do any of this?" she asked, meeting his eye defiantly in the mirror. He laughed, and suddenly he was far too close, surrounding her with his body, as he rested one knee on the stool, and bent over her, his lips at her ear, as he reached for an exquisite diamond necklace.

"Because you are my Queen, and I wish you to be only what you are," he told her, his lips feathering her neck as he drew the cold stones up her collarbone, draping it around her neck and fastening it. He pressed his lips to her clamouring pulse, and Eira couldn't hold in her gasp as she arched slightly at the unlooked-for contact. "You are, finally, what you should always have been. Mine."

To Eira's relief, he stepped away and slowly walked away, lazily taking in the room as Eira stood, watching him carefully for any sign of his next move. The weight of the necklace around her throat reminded her of a chain, or a noose. It was uncomfortable, even as the stones warmed to her skin.

"I had come to inform you, also, that your two conspirators were killed this morning, resisting arrest," he told her coolly, turning to face her as she stared at him, grief and anger burning away the strangely heavy feeling in her chest that their odd conversation had induced. Her neck still burned from his kiss.

"They were twice the men you could ever be," she spat heatedly, folding her arms. Loki merely smiled, and withdrew from his belt, the holster and sheath that had contained her knife.

The knife made to kill him.

"Did your scientists really believe that such a paltry weapon could have killed _**me**_?" he asked, holding it up. Eira eyed him glaringly.

"It would have. It's coated with a toxin that not even your stubborn physiognomy would have been immune to," she replied coldly. Loki merely laughed.

"And could you? Kill someone? Even one you revile, as much as you claim to revile me?" he asked, stepping closer, holding out the holster, his expression cool and blank once more, levity gone. Eira glanced to the knife and back, sure he would stop her, or just laugh at her, but his eyes challenged her, and the rage in her heart at the deaths of her colleagues grew too hot. She marched across the room, snatched the knife from its sheath and held it to his neck.

Loki's only response was to tilt his head slightly, revealing more of the pale skin above the collar of his tunic. Eira faltered, despite herself, her breath hitching at being so close to him. She sucked in a breath, and his eyes glinted, as the dizzying scent of him, fresh, almost painfully cold, wreathed her senses and fogged her mind. Familiarity bloomed, making her lower her hand slightly, as he gazed down at her patiently.

"You cannot, not me," he breathed, his gaze dropping to her lips hungrily, as her heart pounded in mingled fear and anticipation. To her horror, she wanted his lips, his kiss.

And that desire, that madness, waxed too strong to deny. Loki's hand came up, tugging down her wrist and the knife, and then his mouth was on hers, hot, urgent and all-consuming. Eira had never kissed any man, never so much as touched a man beyond friendly touches from Peregrine, but she kissed him like she had always kissed him.

Their lips moved together, in concert, and she couldn't fight his arms as they came around her waist, pulling her against him. She moaned, as her hands slid into his long hair, mind blissfully empty as he pushed her back, moving with her, until she felt the soft covers of her bed against her knees. He took her down to the bed, still kissing her, and she him, making Eira gasp at the full weight of him atop her, pressing her against the silken covers, one hand purposefully gliding down her yielding body to her knee, clutching it through her skirts and pulling it up to rest against his hip.

Feeling the hardness of his arousal pressed against her, she shuddered and broke the kiss, forcing in air as she stared up at him, wide-eyed. She flushed when she realised their intimate position, and the way her hands were tangled in his hair. He gazed down at her, almost lovingly, certainly knowingly as he gently rocked his hips against hers, making her gasp.

"I know you are afraid," he murmured tenderly, stroking back her hair from her face, caressing her cheek. "You do not know what is happening to you, or why. I will help you, Eira."

Feeling disgusted with herself, with her loss of control, she rolled over, onto her side, facing away from him, shutting her eyes tightly against bitter tears. But even then, she couldn't escape him, as his arms came around her, and his lips teased her ear.

"Incidentally, my sweetheart," he whispered, holding up one hand in front of her and the knife in the other. With one perfunctory swipe, he cut his palm and Eira stiffened with shock. But to her mingled horror, and relief, the wound closed almost immediately, and when she turned back to look at him, he was hale and healthy still.

The toxin hadn't worked. Or it had never been poisoned at all.

"You were sent here, but not for the purpose you thought," he told her, sitting up and tucking the knife back into its sheath. "Think on that."

Eira was mute as he inclined his head to her and left her room, leaving her staring after him, dumbstruck.

The knife hadn't worked. It would never have worked, it would never have killed him.

Someone had sold her out, manipulated her so she ended up here. In Loki's arms.

She was left even more confused than ever, as she lay back down and curled into the covers, succumbing to weakness, just for a moment, as her body was wracked with longing and self-disgust.

What was going on?


	6. What Am I To You?

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

It had been two days since her last encounter with the King. Eira kept to her rooms, unable and unwilling to risk seeing him, confused and angered as she was by both her reaction to him, her weakness, and the fact that someone had betrayed her to Loki's grasp.

The only person she'd seen was Anna, who brought her meals and tried to console her despondent mistress. Eira wasn't sure why, but she couldn't even look at her.

All her preconceptions, her memories, her perceptions, were in a haze, and looking at the young woman just made her even more confused. Who was she? _**What **_was she?

Glancing around the sumptuous rooms she now languished in, she felt stifled, both physically and mentally, reminded of all that had gone wrong.

Rising from her bed, she went to one of the windows, overlooking the gardens and the lawn running down to the lake, tracing the wispy white clouds gliding across the sky, slowly darkening towards twilight.

With a surge of decisiveness, she turned to her wardrobes and fished a long cloak from its depths, slinging it around her shoulders.

It was the colour of ice and snow, a cold blue surrounded by glacial white, and draped her form like velvet water. She clasped it under her throat, the long hood hanging down her back, and rearranged her hair, tying it back and out of her face.

As soon as she stepped out into the gardens, inhaling the crisp, clean air of Norway, she felt her spirits lift. She had never been one for hiding herself away, despite the fact she had been doing that for most of her life, but that was necessity, not choice.

She just needed to think, to find some way through the morass of confusion her life had become. Jaina had once taught her to always think first, and eventually the way forward would come to her. She had struggled to remember that, cloistered in her rooms, but in the open air, the free wind lifting her curls, her mind felt free of the darkness that had clouded it for two days.

She just needed to think.

With a determined grimace, she stepped off the terrace, easily disappearing into the green veil of the gardens.

* * *

He watched her from his study window, matters that had long required his attention forgotten, as he studied her slender form, radiant in icy blue and ivory velvet, shielded from the cool northern winds.

It had been seven hundred years since he lost her, seven hundred years in which he had refused to think of her.

Refused to think of the way her golden curls, honey gold and strong, fell against her neck. Refused to remember the enthralling spell of her hazel eyes…

They had been his world once. Before the fall, before Thanos, and Jotunheim, and Odin's deception.

He flinched away from such memories. He was a King, a God of his people. He had no need for such sentimental thoughts. They did no good, and brought back pain he despised.

He had destroyed Thanos, after he had taken possession of the Tesseract and subjugated the Avengers. He had shown his 'father' he was not to be trifled with. He was invincible, unstoppable. None dared challenge him now.

Except the pathetic remnants of resistance that haunted the ruins of North America. Like a poison, they spread through his perfect world and attempted to destroy, refusing to accept he knew what was best for them.

An ironic smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, as he rested an arm on the lintel, eyes fixed on the blonde siren walking the gardens, clearly in deep reflection.

The resistance had been useful in one respect, at least. They had given him a very valuable gift, in the form of the last free magic-user. He could sense it, sense it in her every movement, her every breath. It was an intrinsic part of him, just as his had always been a part of him.

It always had been.

Eira.

He didn't know how, or why, she had come to be in the resistance, when she had died in his arms seven centuries before, nor did he understand why she could not remember her life, but he would help her remember.

And if this was some manipulative ploy of the All-Father's…then he had already planted the seeds that would bind Eira to him, as he had bound her to him before, and then he would have an ally and a consort too powerful to be controlled.

Except by him.

He remembered the shock, and the pain, he had felt as he'd met her eyes in the audience chamber, recalled the icy terror when that imbecilic brute had shot her.

He disliked that feeling. He was the King of Midgard, wielder of the Tesseract of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, Destroyer of Worlds. He did not feel _**fear**_.

His mind drifted back to his Queen, as he watched her stop and rest against a marble railing, looking out over the water, sparkling in the sunlight.

His Eir. His Eira. It mattered little what she called herself, because he knew her for who she truly was.

And he would help her retake her power and her destiny.

At his side, forever.

With a sly smirk, he gathered his magic and disappeared from the study.

* * *

Eira relished the cool wind, protected from its biting chill by the warm cloak shrouding her. She stroked the hard marble beneath her fingers, mind racing as she thought hard on all that had happened since she had left New York.

She could only surmise that Loki had a spy in the resistance, who sold her out. But who?

And why did he think her to be someone else? Why these odd hallucinations, these flashes of another life?

Still too many questions left unanswered. Not for the first time, she longed for the advice of Peregrine, wondered if he was alright, if Hall had told him of her failure and capture.

If he would try to rescue her. She hoped for his sake he would not.

His gaze was suddenly drawn by the proud, jet-black bird sitting on a boulder, by the water's edge, eying her beadily.

A raven.

She tensed for some unknown reason, and her eyes reminded fixed on it, until it cawed softly, and flew off.

That was the second raven she had seen in a month. There had to be an explanation.

Something was up.

Abruptly, she felt warm breath against the exposed skin of her nape, and hard arms caging her in, and shuddered. She'd hoped he would not bother her today, would not appear only to confuse her more.

"You come out at last," he breathed, his lips brushing her skin with every syllable. "I had feared you had decided to become a hermit."

Eira's laugh was sardonic. "Because that would be such a loss to you!"

"Yes, it would," he sighed against her neck, and she frowned quizzically. There he went again, acting more like a jilted lover than the tyrannical monster she knew he was.

"Why are you here?" she breathed, staying as still as possible in the circumference of his hold, eyes fixed on the glittering, rippling surface of the water.

"I am sure you have many questions. I would answer them for you, if you wished it," he replied, stepping back and offering his arm. Eira turned to face him, tall, dark and lean, clad in his usual leather garb, green eyes gleaming, and forced back her now instinctive reaction, regarding him warily.

"Very well," she murmured, taking his arm, and his offer of truce, graciously. "But don't expect me to be so loquacious in return."

Loki chuckled, shaking his head. "Please, my sweetheart, if I wanted information on the Resistance, I would have taken it by now. No, I will name my price when you are satisfied."

Eira eyed him suspiciously. "And how am I supposed to trust that you wouldn't twist things to suit your motives?" she asked, as they slowly made their way back through the gardens, Eira's snow-white cloak mingling with the black and green of Loki's robes.

"You cannot," he replied simply. "I am the God of Lies and Deceit, in mortal mythology. I lie and twist the truth when it suits me."

"As it does now," Eira retorted.

"True, but it would not be difficult for you to discover the falsehood later on, thereby destroying what trust we might have built in the aftermath, and thus, lying to you now does not suit me," he replied, and she shook her head wearily.

"You delight in talking in riddles," she hissed, as he just laughed. "You always did."

They both froze, as Eira's hand rose unconsciously to her mouth, shocked and bewildered by what had slipped from her mouth. Loki watched her closely, waiting for her to speak.

"I…I don't," she breathed, and his hand stroked hers in the crook of his elbow.

"Do not be afraid, sweetling," he murmured tenderly. "I told you I would help you, and I will fulfil that promise."

"Why do you think me to be this…Eir?" she asked, recovering her wariness as a shadow crept over the King's face. "Who was she?"

"Eir was a member of the court of Asgard, a great healer and warrior," he explained. "She was very beautiful, kind, compassionate and gentle. Qualities that led to her undoing."

"What happened?" she breathed, afraid of the answer, as something stirred within her.

"Tell me," Loki dodged the question. "Have you ever suffered illness? Injury? Or have things happened which neither you nor your guardians could explain?"

Eira eyed him, seeing the evasion but saving it for later. She inclined her head. "I have not suffered illness in my life, nor have my injuries healed the way the others' did. I always healed faster."

Loki nodded to himself. "I thought so," he continued. "After you were injured in the capital, I had your DNA examined by my scientists. In short, Eira you are not human."

Eira felt winded by that statement, and she whirled to face him, stood before the steps up to the marble terrace where she had first met him two days before.

"What are you saying?" she asked, coldly. He met her gaze, a darkness filtering into his emerald eyes as he towered over her, but Eira refused to be afraid.

"You are not human, Eira. Your DNA is that of an Asgardian, an Aesir. I know not why or how, but somehow you have returned to me, and you have yourself admitted that you have seen things, recollected things not from your own experiences," he told her, taking her arms and pressing her close. She raised her head, eying him speculatively.

"Even if I were to believe this fairytale, why has this happened now?" she challenged him.

"Proximity, I would suspect," he hissed, releasing her, but she did not step away. She stood, toe to toe, and refused to back down.

The Valkyrie within.

"You have magic, Eira. I can feel it even now, even dormant as it is. You've used only a tithe of your strength, in healing the injured and dying, and I will show you so much more," he breathed, his tone turning from dark to seductive, and Eira struggled to repress a shudder of desire, as longing rushed over her. He took a curl in his fingers, twining it over the long, pale digits playfully. "I will help you regain your memories, my warrior queen, and retake your place by my side."

Eira met his eyes, refusing to be lulled by his delusional ravings. She would not be his queen, or his weapon. She would escape, but…his offer could prove useful in the meantime.

But one last question niggled at her mind, and she couldn't hold it back. Her voice was softer than the wind when she spoke. "What was I to you?"

Eira was shocked to see an indefinable well of sorrow fill those evergreen eyes, and something within her whispered it was no deception.

"You were my wife," he replied quietly, and he let the curl in his hand fall as she backed away, and escaped.

* * *

Eira regained her room, slumping against her door and breathing hard, the King's words reverberating in her ears.

_His wife…he thinks I'm his wife, miraculously brought back to life…_

She felt an answering sorrow well up inside of her, unleashing a tear on her cheek, as she touched it wonderingly. She didn't even know why she felt so sad, only that she did feel sorrow at the thought.

He had to be insane. He had to be.

But if he wasn't…if somehow, he was right…Except that was impossible, lunacy!

But something whispered in Eira that it was not so impossible at all.


	7. Forgotten Memories

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

Eira experienced a mild, rising wave of panic as she was dressed for dinner that night. Anna fussed and hovered over her; she was tempted to tell her not to bother.

She had no intention of making the King think she was dressing well for _**him**_. She dressed well, because she had a sneaking suspicion that it would be Anna who bore the brunt of Loki's displeasure.

The heavy corset and skirt was made of burgundy leather, holding her and accentuating her waist without constricting her breathing. The high neck ended just below her chin, and her upper body was covered by a black velvet jacket embroidered with intricate golden designs that Anna told her were taken from a Chinese design. The sleeves fell away at her elbows to reveal the burgundy under sleeves.

Anna had curled her hair and bound it up, weaving a delicate gold chain through her hair and letting it drape her forehead. Looking in the mirror, she had to admit she looked queenly, regal.

A complete stranger.

Unconsciously, she straightened her spine, lifting her chin. She did not know if this was Loki's plan, but she would not let him change her. She would not let his delusions force her to be what he wanted.

It was easier said than done, especially as waves of familiarity swept over her with increasing regularity. Looking at herself now, in the mirror, in this dress that was both majestic and beautiful, the dress of a warrior queen, brought back images, hazy, insubstantial, of more gowns, more jewels, more shining hallucinations that Eira could not be sure were real.

A slight pulse of pain washed through her, and she winced, setting a hand to her stomach, as it rose and ebbed. Thankfully, Anna did not see.

* * *

The dining chamber was as luxuriant and warm as the rest of the palace. Eira had avoided it until now, taking meals in her chambers, but he had demanded her presence that evening. Cool marble was bronzed by flickering candlelight, and the hard stone was softened by rugs that devoured one's feet when walked on. Before a low table, stacked with various foods, was a low-slung sofa, piled with comfortable cushions and throws.

Eira met the eyes of the man awaiting her, lounging insouciantly on the yielding surface like a wild cat in the sun, emerald eyes watching her intently.

It had been two days since their last encounter. Eira had not hidden in her rooms as before, but she never saw him no matter how long she wandered in the gardens. A part of her longed for his company, and that alone was enough to make her wary.

She nodded once, and amusement flashed in those dark eyes. He rose, so inherently graceful that Eira could not restrain a surge of desire. What was wrong with her?

"Forgive me, my love," he purred, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. "I have been remiss in my promises to you, but affairs of the Realm called me away."

Eira was tempted to say she didn't care either way, but she remained mute. She needed him to think she was weakening, slowly submitting. And it wasn't entirely true…

She was regularly frustrated and confused by her torn emotions. On the one hand, she loathed him, and on the other, she longed for him.

She eyed him narrowly, and he laughed, before gesturing to the sofa. With a haughty firming of her jaw, she walked past him and settled herself on the soft cushions. She stared straight ahead, and refused to react. She heard the gentle trickle of wine into crystal glasses, and the crackle of the nearby fire. The smell of the breads and meats, warm from the kitchens, was enough to make her mouth water.

Uneasily, she wondered what this was all about.

"Tell me, Eira," her captor began, as he reappeared in her line of sight, and proffered a glass to her. She took it gently, meeting his eyes defiantly. "When growing up, did you ever do something that was seemingly beyond your control?"

A dim memory flashed, of a crowded medical bay, and the stench of blood and putrefying flesh, and desperate, pained screams. Eira nodded cautiously, alert for any trickery.

"Describe it to me," he continued, sitting down beside her. He leant back in his seat, legs splayed in such an overt display of male dominance, that it almost made Eira roll her eyes.

It also meant their legs were far too intimate for Eira's liking.

"Must you take up all the space, by sitting like that? I can barely move," she replied, instead of answering him. His smile grew, devilishly, and he sipped his wine.

"Tell me, and perhaps I will remedy that," he retorted. Eira flicked him a glare, feeling some familiar, uncomfortable and unwanted, exasperation, as if this had happened before.

"One day, during an attack by the Chitauri, I was in the medical bay. It was filled with the dead and dying," she gave in, turning away so her eyes fixed on a spot in the wall. She couldn't look at him. "I wasn't supposed to be there, but they were all too busy to notice me. There was a man, burned, dying. I…I touched him, and he was healed."

"You have a natural affinity for healing," he murmured beside her. "You always did. How old were you?"

"Seven," she sighed. "I think. I do not really know exactly how old I am. Why do you ask?"

"I needed to know to gauge how instinctual your magic is," he explained, as she finally deigned to meet his gaze. "Instinctual magic is an indicator of power. The greater the capacity, the greater the power. That you were able to heal a dying man at the age of seven is impressive."

Eira stared at him, then looked away. "Compliment or not, I'm still not giving in."

He laughed at that, freely, without edge, and she shuddered at the warm sensation gliding down her back. Her heart lightened, and she had to remind herself of his misdeeds, his tyranny. He was the enemy.

"I was not trying to persuade you to," he protested silkily. "That will come later. No, I was being sincere. Now I know the extent of your talents, I can better decide how to go forward."

"With what?" Eira asked, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

"Your awakening," he replied. "It may be that magic is the key to unlocking your memories, my love. As it is, it is a crime to leave such talent to waste."

"Again, flattery will get you nowhere," she sipped her wine, yet a slight smile bloomed on her lips. To her slight horror, she was enjoying their banter.

"Was that a smile I saw?" he asked, and she glanced at him, amusement dancing in his eyes. In this setting, with the light of the candles and fire dancing over his alabaster skin, he appeared sensuous and seductive, a creature of legend, yet more human than his icy persona in the harsher light of day. "Why yes, I think it was."

"Do not flatter yourself," she hissed, reaching out for a grape to busy her hands. "If you know so much of magic, then by all means tell me what you know."

Loki simply smiled and lazily watched her, as she ate. "Before we begin, my love, there is something you should know. You _**are**_ my wife, and I had known you for a thousand years before we lost one another."

Eira froze.

"So I know you better than you know yourself right now," he purred, sitting up to lean into her, his lips dancing over her ear and hair. She cursed Anne for putting her hair up so he might caress skin far too sensitive to his touch. At least the rest of her was covered. She felt fear mingle with her lust and longing, as she uneasily wondered if he guessed about her plans to escape. "No matter what situation, no matter how difficult the odds, your first reaction to capture was escape. However long it took, whatever you needed to do to fool your captors…even submit, to an extent."

She turned to face him, defiantly, even as the ache in her gut bloomed, and images tugged at the corners of her vision.

_A clash of blades…the whistle of arrows…blood…rage…pride…anger…cold chains…triumph…_

"So I know exactly what you are seeking to achieve. You think to escape, to run back to your precious Resistance," he hissed, more menacing than seductive now, and she curled her fists in fear and anger. "Have you not noticed the lack of guards? Of Chitauri? They are not needed here, because my magic protects this area for miles around. Even if you made it out of the mountains, you could not escape, so do not try and cease your deception. It has long stopped working, although I applaud your cunning. Now, we may begin."

As if a veil had been lifted, the menace faded and the seductive, teasing host was back, as he leant back on the cushions. Eira watched him, waiting for any other sign that he might attempt something, more intimidation, or physical harm, but he just smiled.

"You may warn me off all you wish," she began quietly. "But I will not yield. I will escape."

"Oh my dear," he chuckled. "Soon, you will not want to."

* * *

Eira was utterly bewildered.

How could someone go from dangerous and menacing to seductive and assured in less time than it took to blink?

After their confrontation had passed, he had settled into telling her about magic, its foundations, its theories and practical applications. Despite herself, Eira was drawn in, enthralled by his voice and hands as they gestured elegantly.

Magic, to her, had always been mysterious. She had known how to use it to help the sick and dying, but anything else had long been simply an unknown entity, a possibility she had neither the time nor the knowledge to explore.

She had it now.

As he spoke, that familiar wave of _**knowing**_, of understanding that was simply locked away, where she could not yet access it, rose and grew stronger.

Soon, they moved from discussion to practice.

Eira was decidedly uncomfortable. She was sat in front of the now empty table, and struggling to grasp what he was trying to tell her. Instead of just letting her power overflow from her, he wanted her to direct and control it herself, to command it, instead of it using her as a vessel.

"Magic is more than just spells and power, Eira. To wield magic, one must understand and embrace all aspects of one's self. The light, the dark and the greyness between," he whispered in her ear. "Embrace that darkness inside your heart, and use it. It is ever a ready servant."

"But it may also rule you," she argued. "Look at yourself."

He chuckled sensuously against her ear. "That is an argument for another time," he told her. "Now concentrate. Focus on the object you wish to conjure, and enthuse it with your magic. Imagine every atom, every particle, and ignore every scientific theory that would tell you it is impossible. The mortals' science is still too narrow-minded, and as such it can limit you. Science is magic, but magic is not science."

"Riddles again?" she asked, huffing out an impatient breath. "That makes no sense."

"Your magic does not stem from this Realm, therefore it is not bound by its rules, as mine is not. The mortals' scientific concepts do not apply," he explained, and she rolled her eyes.

"Couldn't you have said that before?" she snapped, and he just laughed again.

"You know me, love. I can't resist a chance to tease and torment," he purred in her ear. Uneasily enough, Eira was beginning to suspect he was right. She did know him.

Over the course of their discussion, as she had watched and listened, and sometimes argued and rebutted, everything seemed to crystallise. His every gesture, his voice, the cadence and pitch of it, his face and eyes while animated by intellectual passion; all were familiar.

She knew him.

"Eira? Focus, my love," his voice, slightly admonishing, pulled her from her reverie. Closing her eyes, she tried to focus on the bracelet she was supposed to be conjuring from her rooms. She felt his lips against her forehead…

The magic welled from her in a great rush, accompanied by pain even as she controlled it, and she gasped.

* * *

_The stars glistened and burned above her head, as she stepped out onto the golden terrace steps, looking down into the shadows of the gardens. The skirts of her crimson gown, reluctantly donned for the occasion of the summer solstice celebrations, pooled around her feet as she stepped down._

"_Loki…?" she called. "Loki, where are you?"_

_She paused in the centre of the lawn, hands on hips. "If this is a trick, Loki, I'm going back inside. I'm sore enough from your brother's tomfoolery as it is, without standing around in the gardens all night!"_

"_You're no fun, love," he hissed, against her ear, and she spun to meet him. He stood before her, tall and elegant, dark hair slicked back, armour gleaming. His arms slid around her waist, easing the pressure on her hurt ankle as warmth trickled through her body. "As it is, I could murder Thor for spooking Aren."_

"_He claims it was all in the name of love," she laughed. "I think the mead went to his head, but at least you were there to catch me."_

_He just smiled and bent his head, brushing his lips over hers, making her longingly follow them, yearning for his kiss._

_So many wasted years. They had grown and fought and learned and laughed beside one another for centuries, for nearly a millennia. They had bled and argued and trained until they knew the other as intimately as their own selves._

_Yet it had taken Thor's foolishness and the flight of a horse for them to realise a fundamental truth._

_They were in love._

"_Eir, my love, my life," he whispered against her lips, as she stroked his cheek. "Marry me. Be mine, as we should always have been, for the rest of eternity."_

"_So forceful," she smiled up at him teasingly. "But after Thor's ham-fisted attempts at matchmaking, I'm inclined to agree to avoid any more near death experiences."_

"_Eir, be serious now," he purred, amused despite the sternness of his features. "Will you marry me?"_

_She sobered and met his gaze steadily, as she raised her lips to his. In the instant before their lips met hungrily, she whispered, "Yes."_

* * *

Eira's eyes snapped open with a cry, and she shuddered as she hunched over in her seat, feeling intense desolation, deep within her, as tears streamed unchecked from her eyes.

"My love? What is it? What did you remember?" Loki's worried voice, still so calm and clear, grounded her, gave her something to cling to as the pain welled and ebbed. "My love, look at me."

She felt his hands, oddly calloused and rough for such an elegant man, raising her head up, stroking back stray curls that had escaped, and she met his emerald eyes.

She could not lie, not in that moment.

"The summer solstice," she breathed, and his face hardened. Pain flared deep in his eyes, and he abruptly stood, facing away from her, hands fisted. Eira was shocked to see him shake. "You asked me to be your wife. There was something about a horse…and your brother…"

"Thor," his voice was a husky rasp. "Thor intentionally spooked your stallion, Aren, in order to drive my feelings for you out into the open. He succeeded."

She was so torn. Her entire body was wracked with it, and she didn't know whether to run or to stay.

He is Loki, the tyrant of Earth, a murderer and a madman, she reminded herself. Think what he did to Jaina, to so many others for so many centuries.

It wasn't working.

She had to go, she had to leave before her mind let her do something stupid. She stood, but he whirled around, reaching out to her.

"Stay," the word was whispered, gentle, irresistible. She stilled, but did not turn to face him as he walked up behind her. His arms slid around her waist, and she did not resist this time, but sank back into his arms.

Safe. Loved.

"We were so happy," he breathed. Eira called on her strength and turned to face him.

"What happened?" she asked, both needing and dreading his answer. His eyes turned into hollow pools, overflowing with pain, darkness and an anguish so bleak, so tortured, that Eira almost gasped.

He bent his head and kissed her once, hard and urgent. "You will remember soon enough," he breathed, his lips brushing hers. With that sad whisper, he disappeared from sight, and she was left alone with her confusion, her fear and an instinctive, answering anguish that left her shaking.

Tears welled but she would not let them fall, as she turned on her heel and left the room.

The firelight gleamed off the silver links of the bracelet, lying forgotten and unnoticed on the cushions of the sofa.


	8. A First Step

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

Eira was not certain if she was relieved or worried when Loki came into her chambers that morning. Sat on a window seat, looking out at the stormy clouds, she felt his gaze on her, but refused to meet it.

* * *

She had been unable to sleep last night, after she had regained her room, panting with exertion and pain. The aftershocks of using her magic, and then seeing that vision, washed over her, again and again.

The desolation, the anguish in Loki's eyes when she had faced him. The love and the passion that had burned in his eyes in her vision. The need in his kiss, his hands…

She had buried her head in her hands, giving into her pain, her confusion for a moment, before ripping her dress from her in a flurry of violent need to feel the air on her skin, to be free of the choking silk and leather, of a life she did not understand nor remember, yet it reached out to claim her again.

She was Eira, healer and rebel. Not Eir, not his wife, not his Queen, not…

Or so she had told herself, in the shadows of her darkened rooms. It was not working, and it had terrified her. She had stumbled to her bed, and collapsed onto it, shrouding her body, clad only in a thin shift, in its silken covers, but even then she was cold, shaking, as her mind and body thrummed. Her awakened magic burned beneath her skin, and every time Eira had closed her eyes, she saw it all again. The terrace, the moonlight, Loki's eyes…

She had felt so cold, and tears escaped from the tightly shut prison of her eyelids, lingering on her cheek.

Then warm arms had slid over her waist, and held her so tightly. Her breath had caught in her throat, and she did not move, eyes frantically scanning the darkness, as heat chased away the cold in her limbs, and gentle breath huffed against her neck. The arms around her had not loosened, yet Eira was not uncomfortable. To her chagrin, she had never been more comfortable in her life.

She had leant her head back, and felt it come into contact with Loki's shoulder, bare, stripped of his tunics and undershirt. Tentatively, she had placed a hand on his bicep, strong and as unyielding as marble beneath her fingers, and then clutched it tightly, embracing him back.

She would tell herself off in the morning. But right then…she had needed comfort. His arms steadied her whirling world, and anchored her to sanity as her mind and her body finally relaxed, her magic subdued, so she finally slipped into slumber.

When she had awoken, he was gone.

* * *

She didn't know what to think, or to feel, anymore. Everything was a mess, and she was lost.

And most frightening of all, was that she felt no disgust over allowing him so close, of taking his comfort.

A new, even sharper, awareness of him had been seared into her senses, and she didn't need to look at him to feel his heat, or sense his gaze on her.

And she was still too confused to do anything else about it.

"I must leave you," he began, coolly distant. "There are urgent matters in the Capital which require my attention. I shall return tomorrow."

She didn't move, kept her eyes on the storm clouds outside, and felt his sigh. He drew near, and her eyes closed involuntarily.

His hand appeared in the periphery of her vision, and she finally deigned to meet his agate gaze, as he held out a leather-bound tome to her. She glanced at it, then at him, questioningly.

"What is this?" she asked, taking it gingerly. It had no title, but it felt weighty and comforting in her hand as she held it.

"A book on some basic theories of magic, from Asgard. You might find it instructive, and helpful," he explained. "Study, in my absence. I would not have you waste away from sheer boredom and inaction."

She cursed his perceptiveness. Eira had never been one for such a lazy way of life, rising in the morning only to dress and eat, then to walk in the gardens, or by the lake, until the evening meal. It was peaceful, tranquil, yes, but utterly stifling in its routine.

She took the book, not wanting to seem too submissive, and placed it beside her on the seat. Turning away, she looked back out at the lake, and sensed his exasperation.

"Perhaps we may discuss it tomorrow night, during dinner," he continued, before stepping close. Eira froze as she felt his lips against her hair, an act that felt all too intimate after their close, albeit platonic, night together. "I will leave you now."

The words fell from her lips before she could stop them, lured by his tender gentleness, despite her mind's constant reminders of the tyrant he was. "Thank you."

She turned her head to look at him for the first time, his body draped in dark leather and emerald green, tall, strong and powerful. His dark hair shone like a raven's wing in the weak morning sunlight.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, and there was no guile, no triumph in his eyes. He seemed as much at a loss, after last night's revelations and events, as she. He just inclined his head and left.

After he left, Eira considered the disturbing notion that she was saying thank you, not for the book, but for his embrace the night before.

As she picked up the book, and began to read, she thrust it aside and concentrated on the cramped, spidery script in front of her eyes.

* * *

The next morning, she walked the gardens, swathed in a cloak, and looked out over the lake. There had been a storm the night before, but now everything was calm and peaceful, washed in a soft, grey light that allured Eira outdoors.

She had read the book Loki had given her, and to say it unsettled her even more was an understatement.

The moment she began reading, it was as if something clicked in her brain. It made instant sense, something which shouldn't be possible for an Earth-educated young woman, not when it was theories from another world where the laws of physics were completely rewritten.

But they hadn't baffled her. They had felt familiar, and easy, the longer she'd read. She had finished it only hours before, and her mind whirled with all she'd learned, or rediscovered.

Eira was beginning to accept the possibility that some of what Loki had told her, and she'd seen, was true. That she was someone from another time, another world. It was the only possible solution, in Eira's mind, for the things she had seen and felt since going to the Capital, and becoming embroiled in this mess of a war even deeper than she had been before.

As she paused before the lake, watching the water gently lap the shoreline, she sighed and let herself become entranced by the hypnotic rhythm. When did life have to get so complicated?

Why had this happened to her? This strange, mystifying destiny, fate, whatever it was?

How was it even possible, this torn feeling, of both loss and loathing, longing and anger? On the one hand, she hated him. On the other…

Her eyes followed the still surface of the lake, and, spurred by a sudden desire to immerse herself in the quiet and the calm of the water, she undid her cloak, letting it fall to the ground in a heap of crimson. Her gown went next, leaving her in her shift and shoes. She toed them off, before gingerly trudging down to the pebbled beach.

The water was so cold, it took her breath away. Her entire body thrilled to the shock, and then she drew her foot away, her skin already prickling. She remembered a theory she had read about, in the book, and hesitated.

But unlike before, in her life prior to all this, she could feel her magic, pulsing under her skin. No longer did it rise up the way it used to, now she called and it came.

She called that magic, and it came to her call, shrouding her body in a bubble of heat, like she was standing in a bath.

She stepped into the water, and it no longer chilled her, but felt like a warm wave against her skin. As the shift grew wetter and wetter, it clung to her body, until she was submerged completely.

Underneath the water, it was quiet and peaceful. Light filtered through in shafts, but it was completely dark beneath the waterline.

Eira had learned to swim in the Hudson, when she was a child. It had been her single joy, in a life of fear and confusion, and she had always loved the water. Her hair floated around her like a web of spun gold, and she stayed under until her lungs felt fit to burst.

She surfaced, gasping for air, smiling freely as she laughed and threw herself onto her back. She sliced through the water as gracefully as a fish, before inhaling and diving back beneath the water.

This was freedom. This was life.

And she'd never felt more of either.

* * *

When she surfaced for the last time, she wasn't surprised to see him standing there, on the shore, hands behind his back, legs apart, watching her with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

She set out for the shore, until she reached the shallows and put her feet down. Careful of any sharp boulders, she walked out of the lake, fiercely aware that her shift clung to her like a second skin, and the white fabric was almost translucent.

That explained the burning lust in his eyes.

"Fancied a swim, did we?" he asked, with a wicked grin. She rolled her eyes as she reached him.

"Don't worry, I wasn't planning on drowning myself," she replied sarcastically.

"I'm glad to hear it," he quipped. "For one thing, I would have missed this rather delightful sight before me…"

"You're in a good mood," Eira sighed, fighting back a wave of heat as his gaze swept over her. "How many innocent people did you kill today?"

"So cynical," he rolled his own eyes this time. Eira walked past him, towards the palace, and he fell into step beside her. "As it was, it was a trade dispute."

Eira frowned. Trade dispute?

"I see your magic is already improving," he continued. "A heat spell. Impressive."

Eira ignored him, frowning harder as she thought. Trade dispute? But…how? Loki's power made all his subjects little more than mindless ghosts, bound to his will alone. How did they have enough free will to even have a trade dispute?

Eira was suddenly pulled from her thoughts when she felt a sharp pain slice through her foot. She cried out and stumbled, only to be caught by Loki, his arms holding her against him tightly.

"What is it, love?" he breathed, concern softening his dark eyes. Panting through the pain, Eira glanced down to see her blood on a sharp rock, nestled among the smooth pebbles of the beach.

"My foot. I think I cut it," she gasped. Without another word, Loki swept her into his arms, striding across to one of the boulders and sitting her on it. Immediately, he knelt down, going to her injured foot. It throbbed at the ankle, and she grit her teeth. "And my ankle. Probably when I fell."

"I'd concur," he muttered, eying the long, narrow incision in her sole, before he glanced up at her. "Hold still, and I can fix this."

Eira's breath suspended in her lungs when she felt his hand wrap around her calf, sliding down, leaving a trail of soothing heat in his wake, until it wrapped around her ankle. With a gasp, she felt the pain ease, then disappear entirely, before he pressed hard on the sole of her foot, and the cut closed, leaving behind a bloody line, but no other sign.

She shivered in the cold wind. When she had cut her foot, her concentration had ebbed, and the spell had disintegrated, leaving her wet and cold in the harsh Norwegian air.

"And that is why you don't walk barefoot on pebbled beaches," Loki breathed, distracting her. She glared at him, and he chuckled, raising his hands as if in surrender. He stood, and held out his hand to her, helping her up.

"I wasn't aware you could heal others," she murmured, easing onto her feet. To her surprise, her pain was completely gone.

"I had the best teacher," he told her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine, but not from the cold. Not this time. He frowned. "You are cold. Here."

He stripped off his surcoat, slinging it around her shoulders, grasping the lapels and pulling them together tightly. Eira drowned in the musky warmth, and was dragged forward a step by his strength. She looked up at him, eyes wide, as she glimpsed the play of emotions over his starkly handsome face.

Longing. Disbelief. Pain. Loss. Regret. Desire.

He swallowed, and he unconsciously pulled her closer, and she went willingly, enthralled by the smouldering glare of his eyes, her mind silenced, her body burning as it came in proximity to his, stretched against his length.

"There is something I wish to show you," he murmured. "As well as discuss with you." his voice was husky, dripping with desire. "Go and dress warmly."

She met his eye, felt his gaze drop from her eyes to her lips and back again. Her lips parted, and he closed his eyes, his hands tightening on his coat, before he gently put her from him. "Go."

"Very well," she murmured, sensing his surprise at her acquiescence. He eyed her suspiciously, but she just smirked and walked away, hips unconsciously swaying.

Her mind freed from its torturous cycle of dire warnings and self-loathing, she smiled secretly to herself, feeling a warmth blossoming deep within her, as she rubbed her cheek against the lapel of his coat, inhaling his scent deeply.

She was not sure what had happened, but something had definitely shifted between them.


	9. Better The Devil You Know

In Love With The Darkness

* * *

Eira emerged from her chambers, draped in the same icy-coloured cloak she had worn the day Loki had told her she was his wife. The folds were so warm and deep, she didn't need gloves, and the faux fur lining of her boots ensured she was well-insulated from the cold.

Loki awaited her, on the terrace, and offered his arm. "Where are you taking me?" she asked, pulling up her hood against the cold.

"Somewhere I go often to think, when I wish for solitude," he replied, leading her away from the palace, and into the pine woods thronging the mountainside. Eira snorted.

"You mean when you get bored of guards and sycophantic slaves?" she asked, sarcastically. To her slight surprise, he glanced at her, in confusion, and she remembered again her own puzzlement when he'd told her about the trade dispute. What was it she didn't know? Why was Anna so loyal to Loki, and yet so obviously in full control of herself?

What had the Resistance not told her, or…did they not know?

Beneath the sting of betrayal at her capture, Eira didn't know who to trust anymore. Except possibly Peregrine. But he was far away, and she hoped, it would stay that way. She didn't want to think about her oldest and dearest friend putting himself in danger for her.

They fell into silence as Loki led her out of the palace, and down a small track that led up into the mountains. She could hear the thunder of the falls drawing closer, as the incline steepened and the muscles of her thighs began to burn with the strain.

She stumbled, and Loki's hand closed around hers, tight and supportive, as she fought to catch her breath. "Forgive me, Eira," he breathed. "I had forgotten you are still recovering from your illness. I know a quicker way, if you would permit it?"

"Do I have a choice?" she muttered, unsettled as Loki chuckled and transferred his grip from her hand to her waist, pulling her against him. Eira's breath hitched and she grit her teeth behind her lips, some part of her hating the way her body responded to him, but it was a part that was growing ever weaker.

Attuned as she now was, Eira felt the rush of magic building up in Loki, before her vision went blind and her every cell felt like it was being squeezed and compressed. All of her senses were cut off, and it was only the feel of Loki's arm around her waist, the only palpable thing she could sense, that allowed her to remain calm.

The pressure ended as abruptly as it began, and Eira gasped as she opened her eyes, staring up at him, wide-eyed. "What was that?" she breathed. He smiled an unholy grin, and released her, taking a step away.

"Trans-locational physical displacement, or as some would call it, teleportation. I have been developing the technique for some years," he explained. "It only works when I know the location to which I am travelling, but otherwise it is useful in going between the Capital and here without detection."

"You couldn't do that before," Eira murmured, words once again slipping from her mouth before she even thought them, but this time she didn't falter, just watched him as he tensed, his leather-clad back to her.

"Seven hundred years is ample time for practicing such feats," he replied softly, before turning and holding out his hand to her. Eira warily took it, and for the first time noticed where they were.

They were stood atop a rocky peak, looking down on the valley where the palace stood, but Eira could see farther, to the South and the rocky mountain ranges beyond, levelling out onto a misty plain that was blurred to her vision. The sun shone, but a fierce Northern wind nipped at the hem of her cloak, and she was suddenly glad for its warmth.

They stared out at the beauty of the landscape stretching out below them for awhile, Eira entranced by the subdued greys and greens of the mountains and valleys, graceful and wild, untamed, her heart seemingly pounding in time with the gusts of wind that ruffled her cloak and Loki's robes. His hand was tight around hers.

* * *

"Tell me, Eira," he abruptly broke the peaceful silence. "What does the Resistance plan to do after I am defeated?"

Eira spun to face him, eyes narrowed as her mind whirled. "Why do you want to know? Is the great tyrant considering defeat?" she scoffed. He smirked and shook his head.

"It is merely a hypothetical question. Humour me," he murmured coolly, and she rolled her eyes.

"Set the people free from whatever dark magic you use to enslave them. Give the Earth back to them, and-" Eira trailed off, suddenly uncertain. What exactly were they going to do? She wasn't exactly in Hall's inner circle. She had no idea what the plan was for governing the Earth after Loki's defeat.

Loki looked away from her, and she breathed a sigh of relief to be free of his piercing gaze. "I have ruled this world for seven hundred years, Eira," he murmured, and she found herself listening intently. "I have made this world belong to me. Look back into human history and see what happens when a regime falls apart, particularly one which has ruled for so very long. Instability, chaos, suffering. You saw for yourself the condition of the people; they are not ill-treated or neglected which is more than I could say for the way I found them when I first came to this planet As I believe mortals say, better the devil you know. Is my rule really so abhorrent, so evil?"

"You killed and tortured thousands of innocent people in your rise to power. You rule with fear and repression. You show no mercy to anyone who fights against you," Eira spat, stunned and sickened by his little speech. She turned her back to him, folding her arms and letting her anger make her strong. "You are cruel and pitiless. You know nothing of compassion, or mercy."

"Don't I?" he breathed, and she flinched when she realised how close he stood to her, his torso pressed against her back, as she stared blindly out over the landscape. "This is my kingdom, my people, Eira. All that I have done was done to protect that fact; and the Resistance has killed plenty in their vendetta against me. What of the men and women they have killed in their battles with me? You say I know nothing of compassion; perhaps that is true. The Aesir are not known for their gentleness, Eira, as you will one day remember. But you can teach me."

Eira fought weakly when she felt his arms slide around her waist, pulling her back tight against him. "Let go of me!" she hissed, but his voice, seductive, dark with temptation and promise, trickled honeyed words into her ear.

"You see our kingdom, my love. _**Ours**_. Teach me compassion; show me mercy, think of the power you will wield as my Queen, the good you will achieve. The Resistance is doomed to fail; accept your place as my Queen and help me return peace to this realm and its people. _**Our**_ people, Eira."

"You would never share power with me; never let me do any good. You are a merciless tyrant, untrustworthy, without honour or goodness," she spat, forcing his arms away and rounding on him. Rage burned inside of her, and she longed for the power to end this, right now. "You've killed everyone I ever loved in this life. The only mother I ever knew. You may be the God of Lies, but don't think for a moment that I will ever fall for your trickery!"

Silence fell on that windswept mountain peak, and Eira's heart thundered with anger and adrenaline. Her magic rose, instinctive and uncontrolled, and she fought to hold it in. She was no match for him yet.

Loki's eyes burned, but his handsome face was cool, blank. "Such narrow-mindedness. I am disappointed in you Eira, if that is all you think me to be," he murmured, moving closer to her. "When you _**know **_I am more than that."

"I don't know anything anymore. There are no certainties," she whispered. He had haunted her life from its very first moments; first for her gift, and now for her apparent identity and the snatches of memory she experienced in his company. "And I have seen nothing to suggest you are otherwise."

"But you will," he murmured, firmly. "You will remember, Eira, and things will change."

Eira was so focussed on Loki, her eyes fixed on his and his on hers, their silent battle of wills, that neither noticed the sleek black raven take off from a peak above them, and fly noiselessly away.

* * *

_Resistance Base 1, in the ruins of New York City, former United States of America_

A darkly clad figure marched through the corridors of the base, overcoat flapping around his booted legs, the scant emergency lighting glinting off the long, graceful bow in a quiver on his back. His face was set, grim, and his eyes burned with repressed rage.

It had been nearly three weeks since Eira had been taken captive. He knew she wasn't ready for this, knew she would fail. _**He **_had failed her, failed his promise to Jaina to keep her safe.

And now Eira had been proclaimed Loki's Queen and was probably enslaved to that tyrant's every whim. He shuddered at the thought of what Loki might do to her, while under his spell. Eira was strong, powerful, but no one could resist the King's magic.

Peregrine loved Eira. Not the way he had loved Jaina for too short a time, but as a daughter and a confidant. He saw much of the girl's adoptive mother in her, imprinted on her in a way no DNA could replicate, and he had promised Jaina he would keep Eira safe.

He would get her back. No matter what Hall said, no matter how many times he said no, that was too great a risk and that Eira was lost, he would save her. Or die trying.

He had good men, men loyal to him who would follow him. It would take time, and meticulous planning but they would travel to Norway and set her free. If the King just happened to be killed in the crossfire, so much the better.

As he strode towards the hangar bay, he muttered to himself, like a mantra, a prayer, over and over again.

_I'm coming, Eira._

* * *

_Asgard_

In the hall of Gladsheim, Odin All-Father sat, pensive and quiet as his single eye gazed unseeingly out from his great seat.

Things were moving on Midgard. He had put his pieces into place, and could only hope that they would move as he needed them to. For his sake, for Asgard's sake, for Loki's sake.

His son, that tiny child he had brought home to love and raise as his own, was too dangerous. He held the power of the Universe in his control, and Odin feared him. Feared his complacency would turn once more to vengeance.

That he might decide that simply intimidating and subduing the Nine Realms would not be enough, and Asgard would be his first target. The darkness inside Loki was pervasive and all-consuming.

He had waited seven hundred years for the right time. His plan could not fail. The girl could not fail.

A dark shape soared into the cavernous chamber of the hall, and cawed. Odin stretched out his hand, and the raven alighted on it, bowing its proud head.

He closed his eyes as the raven's memories and observations filtered into his mind, and a slight quirk of the lips creased his aged face.

Though never a smile. He had not smiled since the destruction of the Bifrost, and the loss of his son.

The pieces were moving. Soon, the old balance would be restored, and peace would once again rule in the Nine Realms.

* * *

_**A/N: **_**Just so people know, the above does not represent my own political views and opinions, far from it. Merely an interesting ambiguity of politics, which I am fast learning doesn't possess shades of black and white, just lots and lots of grey. But it is an interesting question, isn't it? The difficulty of rebuilding an entire world after such an entrenched regime as Loki's, would be enormous, and as such Eira could potentially wield more power to change as Loki's Queen than as a rebel. **

**There will be more about the power dynamics of Eira and Loki's relationship in later chapter, as well as more about exactly how Loki's Earth works, and the truth behind how he controls the people. Hope you liked the little mention of both Odin and Peregrine. Both will have major parts to play soon.**


	10. The Boiling Point

In Love With The Darkness

**A/N: Apologies for the delay on this update and other updates on other stories, but unfortunately I do have a life. But to make up for it, have three updates at once!**

* * *

Three days after their conversation on the mountaintop, Eira was determined to avoid her captor.

How dare he think that she would be so easily swayed by promises of power! Lies, all of it.

The heels of her boots _clicked_ on the marble floors of the corridor, as she strode quickly through the silent palace. She had no idea where Loki was, or where she was going, only that she needed to walk, to move, to find some purpose other than sitting in her rooms, going mad.

No, not her rooms. Her prison, her gilded cage.

It had been a mark of how insidious the King's influence was that she had thought for a moment that she had softened towards him, yet he had revealed himself in that last conversation between them. As if she would ever betray her people for power, of any kind!

Did he really believe her that naïve? To think that the promise of a throne would sway her?

That thought hurt. She'd believed he thought better of her than that. But no, it was not just that. He had promised her the power to help.

And that struck too deep a chord within her, and it frightened her. It frightened her because the facts were not on her side. The Resistance had been fighting for seven hundred years, with no real progress. Thousands of lives were lost with each fight; each attack and it led nowhere. It didn't even cause a dint in Loki's armour.

The fact was that a little voice had began whispering away within Eira that perhaps more good might be done within the system than without. That perhaps to win, she would have to lose.

Or at least appear to.

Before that thought could take a more coherent shape, Eira became aware of the sound of footsteps, not walking or running, but near-silent, irregular and graceful, as if dancing.

Frowning, she followed the sound down a side corridor, and through a set of arched doors into a wide, cavernous hall, lit by towering windows that let in the natural light outside. Eira's eyes went wide, as she stopped, paralysed by what she saw.

* * *

In the very centre of the hall, clad only in training breeches and nothing else, eyes closed and face taut with concentration, was Loki.

His dark hair was slicked back but for a few strands that fell over his brow. His body flexed and rippled with muscle as he glided through a set of movements, his infamous staff in his hands, cutting down invisible opponents with a lethal skill that made her breath come short in her lungs.

She had seen footage of the King fighting before, but never had it affected her like this. Her pulse raced, and her mouth dried even as she acknowledged that it was little wonder their best fighters could do little to harm him. He was faster than a viper and a thousand times more deadly.

But maybe this war wasn't about physical strength and might. Perhaps, the answer was something else…

Eira's thoughts once again trailed away, as her eyes followed the line of his shoulders, the muscles bunching and rippling with every thrust and lunge of his body, yet there was a stillness about Loki, even now, his eyes shut and features calm, that belied the ferocity she knew lay within.

Suddenly he paused, and she knew he had sensed her presence, if he hadn't already known she was watching from the moment she stepped into the room. She stiffened, recalling she was supposed to be angry with him, and folded her arms defiantly.

Loki smiled as he opened his eyes, lowering his knives, not bothering to face her as he spoke. "Enjoying the show, my lady?" he called teasingly. "You come out of hiding at last. I had begun to despair of ever seeing you again. Had I but known my combat practice would be so efficacious in drawing you out, I would have done it sooner."

"Don't flatter yourself," she snorted. "I'm surprised one such as you even bothers to practice."

"Oh? And why is that?" he asked, striding over to a small table to sheath the knives and place them aside.

"Your towering ego, of course. No mortal could hope to match you," she replied, finding herself drawn further into the room, watching him closely. Loki laughed, reaching for a sheath of shapeless black leather that turned into a dark coat as he draped it over his shoulders.

"There is a difference between arrogance and confidence," he retorted. "It would never do to be unprepared, for anything, even the most unlikely scenarios."

Eira wasn't sure what made her do it, but as she trailed a hand over one of the knives, she found herself drawing it and raising it to his neck in a graceful, confident move, that she knew it had been practised before.

Loki just smiled.

"As unlikely as this?" Eira breathed.

"Do you even remember how to use that?" he asked tauntingly, his eyes raking over her form, today clothed in a comfortable tunic and long, loose trousers. A knife appeared in his hand, as he twisted under her guard, dark eyes gleaming. Eira instinctively compensated, fisting her hand and using to bat away his other hand and jumping away. "Impressive."

"One of yours, if I recall correctly," she replied, with an exhilarated smile. Loki's eyes glinted, and he grinned wickedly.

"You always were an enjoyable sparring partner," he replied silkily. "In more ways than one."

Images flashed across the surface of Eira's mind, instilling a confidence inside of her that she had never possessed before. She had been taught basic hand-to-hand combat, and a few advanced techniques, by Peregrine, but she was a healer, not a warrior.

Or at least, so she'd always believed.

She threw her knife, but he had been expecting that, ducking and lunging for her, his blades in a cross. She dropped and kicked out, forcing him to the floor, before following up with a kick to one of his wrists, making him drop the blade. It skidded across the floor with a resonant screech of metal on hardwood.

She twisted the other out of his grip, straddling him on the ground while pinning his wrist to the floor with her spare hand.

"I thought you said I was the Goddess of Healing," she breathed, her breath shuddering from her in gasps. His own was not much better, his body rising and falling beneath her, impinging on her senses with every pant. He was completely relaxed under her hands, until she felt his free hand snake around her waist. Abruptly, she was tilted sideways to the floor, and he crushed her beneath him, the blade still at his throat. She was achingly aware of his hips nestled between her thighs, and the strong muscles of his chest pressing into her breasts, partially exposed by the opening of his coat.

"You are both healer and warrior. You are Valkyrie, Eira, a symbol of the duality of women as fighters and healers," he murmured, his lips so close to hers, within touching distance as heat raced through Eira and she found herself longing to kiss his mouth again, the way she had once before. Or maybe, many times before. "You have stopped fighting your true identity. You've accepted who you are."

"Who I once was, maybe," she whispered back. "There is more to me now than you could ever know, Loki."

"I know you have suffered," he replied gently, sliding his long, dexterous fingers around her wrist and gently holding. He exerted no pressure, and it was she who lowered the blade. "But that is why, out of all, you are the best qualified to help me. We can change the Earth, Eira. Help me."

"You are the God of Lies, Loki Odinson," she whispered, narrowing her eyes at him as he tensed at the name she gave him. "Only time will tell if your words are truth or lies."

And with that she pushed him off of her, amazed by the strength she had found. She sensed him rise beside her, as she held out the blade, hilt pointed towards him, challengingly.

"Truth and lies are a matter of perspective, dearest," he told her, taking the weapon, covering her fingers with his own. He held her gaze, as shivers raced down her spine, making her tremble, and she felt trapped. "You shall decide which."

Forcing her gaze away from his, inwardly shaking, Eira tore her hand away and fled the hall, feeling his gaze, both a warning and a promise, centred right between her shoulders, piercing her heart.

* * *

Once again their interaction deteriorated into a game of cat and mouse, pursuit and evasion. The one place he did not come was her bedchamber, as she realised he was allowing her own personal space, to retreat and feel secure in herself, and that he was waiting to be invited in.

Loki was a dark temptation, a shadow that sought to reach out and claim her, and Eira could only do her best to avoid him. She was still so torn, so confused, by him, by everything. Her mind pulled her in one direction, her instincts another, and her soul yet another.

Her time was running out. Sooner or later, their game would have to end.

Eira wasn't sure if she was ready for it to end.

* * *

Two days after their interlude in the training hall, he finally cornered her, or maybe she let him, she would never know.

She was stood on the balcony overlooking the lake, dressed in flowing silk the colours of a dawn, her arms and back bared by the cut of the fabric, her hair piled high on her head. She had stepped out of her sanctuary, needing the free air on her face and a chance to breathe it, regardless of the danger.

Or maybe she'd had enough of their game, and wanted it to end, one way or the other. A raven cawed in the distance, and she watched it take flight lethargically, mind removed from the present as she thought over the events of the past few days. The sunset was beautiful, but it could not hold her today.

She didn't have any recollection of consciously deciding to play his little game of seduction, so why did it feel like a game they had played before? Perhaps because it had been, once upon a time.

She could feel his gaze on her, where she stood, and she stayed still. She didn't know what was going to happen, or what she would do, but she could find no will to fight him on this level anymore.

"I've been chasing you for two days," he breathed, and she was surprised by how dark his voice was, how low it had dropped. Like raw silk, it caressed her senses, even as he took one step towards and another. Still, she refused to meet his gaze, keeping her back to him. "You torture me, my lady. You look at me with such desire, yet you push me away with such repulsion, a feeling we both know is forced."

"Loki…" she breathed, unsure if the word was plea or warning, but hating herself all the same. She felt his tunic brush her back, then the warm solidity of his chest pressing against her back as he hemmed her in, between his arms on the balcony. Still she refused to look at him.

"Why do you deny yourself? Why do you deny me?" he whispered in her ear, his lips caressing the whorl gently, with each silken word. "Whatever the reason, enough. I have been patient with you but it is fast running dry. We return to the Capital in three days time, and you will take your place as my Queen. You are mine, Eira."

"You talk of change and freedom, yet you always use domination and tyranny," she replied quietly. Her breath was sucked in, in a startled gasp, when she felt his lips in the small of her back, placing heated, open-mouthed kisses up her bare spine, his hands fanning out sensuously across her ribcage. "Loki…"

"No domination, no tyranny, my love," he breathed against the nape of her neck. "Never with you."

The words sounded like a vow, and she shuddered, trembling with desire and the wish, no the _**need**_ to give in. Her resistance, in this at least, had snapped.

She felt his hand tilt her head back, bringing her face around to his, before his lips were on her and she was lost.

The first touch was gentle, tentative, a question not a demand. Eira released a shuddering breath, longing too much to bear, too much to resist as she felt his breath wash over her mouth, needing more.

Their lips met again, with such ferocity and urgency that they moved back with preternatural speed against the wall of the palace. This time, she kissed him back with all the passion within her, releasing all her frustration and anger into her kiss, drawing blood with her teeth before kissing it away with lips and tongue.

His body pressed heavily into hers, holding her up even as the pain of another forgotten memory flashed through her, making her cry out.

_Blunt teeth nipped along the line of her throat, effortlessly balancing her on the threshold of pain and pleasure, as she gasped and arched beneath him-_

Loki groaned into her mouth, as she buried her hands into his hair to haul him closer, pouring all her pain into the kiss even as it waxed stronger.

_She could feel him within her, hard and claiming, tenderly marking her as his as she writhed willingly in his arms, her legs slung around his hips-_

He rucked up her skirts, grasping her knee and pulling her leg up to cling to his waist, his arousal hard between her thighs as his mouth possessively marked Eira's neck, memory blurring into reality, and vice versa.

_Pain blossomed deep within, but she welcomed it, bade farewell to her maidenhood with eagerness, as Loki murmured his love and his devotion against her lips, in each and every caress of her body, in every mark he had left across her skin. She had never felt more complete, more connected to anyone in her long existence._

_His beloved green eyes looked down on her tenderly, silently asking if she was well. With a smile, as she leaned up and kissed him, drawing him deeper into her body with a muted moan._

Eira tore her mouth away from his with a cry, panting heavily. He did the same, burying his face against her neck, both fighting for control as pain and need wracked Eira's body, and that of the man in her arms. Another memory, another temptation.

She found her hands buried in his hair, gently caressing and cradling his face, as he raised his eyes, wide and glazed over with need, mirroring her own feelings, but she sensed that this time, she was not the only one to experience the memory.

The memory of the first time they gave their bodies to each other, the night of the summer solstice, after he had asked her to be his wife.

Emotion, heavy and sobering, settled in Eira's heart as she stared at Loki, all the world narrowed down to him and him alone. His hand caressed her cheek, his eyes searching hers with a question she wasn't sure how to answer.

The need was suddenly negated when Eira heard the familiar whistling sound of an arrow slicing through the air, then a cry of pain as Loki bent over her, a feathered shaft protruding from his shoulder.

With shock and horror, she glimpsed Peregrine over Loki's shoulder, already fitting another arrow to his bow, flanked by Resistance soldiers, before all hell broke loose.

* * *

It had taken them weeks to find the hole in Loki's defences. Peregrine himself had led his team on several clandestine missions, to hoodwink Hall and the others, just for this.

They had finally found it, in a small cave system that led under the mountains and emerged near the waterfalls. There had been a gap, small but usable, in the magical shielding Loki had erected around his palace, and Peregrine and his men had managed to slip through.

The palace was only lightly guarded, and it was easy to get in. They would take the King by surprise.

Peregrine himself had been a little uneasy at how easily they had infiltrated Loki's defences and his palace. There had been a few servants, easily take care of, and the handmaiden in Eira's rooms, but she was now soundly sleeping.

The sight of the opulent chambers had made him shudder as he thought about what might have occurred there. They had emerged onto the balcony to find them in each other's arms, and rage had boiled over into hatred and disgust, that he would do this to a young girl, an innocent like Eira.

Peregrine had never felt greater satisfaction than when he saw his arrow pierce the tyrant's shoulder, and his cry of pain.

Loki's face was transformed into a monstrous rictus of pain and blazing anger, as a wave of magic, suffocating and lethal, flew from his outstretched hand towards them, throwing them back into the marble walls and pillars. Two of his men fell and did not stand again, but the rest clambered to their feet.

"Fools!" the tyrant spat through gritted teeth, pulling the arrow from his shoulder with a contemptuous snort and tossing it towards them. Peregrine ducked, but it pierced one of his men through the jugular, sending him to the floor as he breathed his last with a gurgled sigh.

Snarling, Peregrine switched to his knife, as the surviving members of his team sprang at Loki fearlessly, all the while he shouted at Eira to run.

* * *

Eira watched everything through a haze of pain and confusion and horror. Peregrine was here? In Norway? No.

She saw him lunge at Loki with one of his arrows, and her heart stopped. Her mind battled, between two men, two fates, her feet held to the floor as if by quicksand and she was sinking.

Were there no guards? She would even take Chitauri right now, but as she looked around, the palace and grounds were deserted.

Damned arrogant man! Of course he would think his magic enough to keep out all intruders. She forced herself to move as she saw one of the fighters, a man called Peters if she recalled correctly, throw himself at Loki, knife raised and aimed at his neck, and the God had not seen him.

It was instinctive and sudden. Magic welled up within Eira so quickly she had no chance of restraining it. She raised her hands and it burst forth, racing towards Loki, Peregrine and his soldiers, leaving the God unharmed but throwing the mortals back, into unconsciousness.

Peregrine was thrown clear, and the last thing he saw as darkness bled into his vision was the sight of Eira, hands outstretched, power radiating from every pore, as he realised she had betrayed them to save the monster who had taken her, but then he knew no more.

Eira panted for breath, suddenly so drained she could not keep her body upright, and she collapsed, as nerveless as a rag doll. Loki sprang across to her with a cry, ignoring his injuries, cradling her in his arms as he stroked her hair back from her face.

It had been too much, too soon. The magic she had used so instinctively in defence of him had nearly killed her.

"Eira," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead, as she fell into dreams of a life she had once known, millennia before.

Above them, from the tallest spire of the palace, a raven cawed and watched with a satisfied gleam in its single eye, before raising its wings and taking flight into the sunset.


	11. The Tale Of Eir I

_Part II: The Tale Of Eir_

* * *

_Lady Eir, Goddess of Healing and Mercy, smiled as she walked swiftly along the corridors of the palace, searching for her betrothed and his brother._

_Today would be the coronation of a new King, and all of Asgard was waiting, the entire golden city festooned in bright banners and silken pennants as the people celebrated this happy day._

_The sleeves of her spring green gown swept the floor, the long trailing skirts floating in the wake of her passage, the long golden waves of her hair restrained only by the silver and diamond coronet she wore, long trailing chains of pure diamond falling from the circlet and into her curls, mingling with the golden mass._

_She heard a low chuckle as she passed a curtain, and recognised it as her lover and future husband. As she slipped between the crimson drapes, she saw them together, tall and proud Princes of Asgard, as different as night and day._

_The mighty Thor, golden and great, with his bear-like voice and stature, the great hammer Mjolnir by his side, his scarlet cloak draping his silver armour. Beside him stood Loki, his armour gleaming in burnished tones of gold and silver, the emerald cloak broadening his shoulders, his raven hair just jutting out from beneath his horned helmet. He was chuckling at the white-faced servant who recoiled from the snakes now slithering from Thor's goblet, and she rolled her eyes._

_He could be such a child sometimes._

_The servant dropped the platter and goblet with a shout, as Eir approached silently, eyes crinkled with amusement. _

"_Loki!" Thor whined. "Now that's just a waste of good wine."_

"_Oh, just a bit of fun," the younger Prince waved it off, with a devilish smile which never failed to set Eir's heart racing. Not that she would ever tell him that, of course. He was too smug as it was. "Right, my friend?" he asked the servant, vanishing the snakes with a wave of one elegant hand. _

_The servant nodded nervously, as Eir spoke. "Has my betrothed been misbehaving again?" she asked imperiously, making both Gods turn to her. _

"_No more than usual, dear sister," Thor chuckled, as Loki reached out to her and pulled her into his side. She and Loki were not wed yet, but Thor had called her 'sister' since they were children. _

"_I __**am**__ the God of Mischief, love," Loki murmured into her ear, his warm breath sending shivers across her bared neck. _

"_Sometimes you take that title __**too**__ seriously," she replied coolly. Loki rolled his eyes, as she continued. "Remind me, why am I marrying you again?"_

"_Because I am charming, debonair, a genius, talented, handsome. The list goes on," he retorted with a winning grin. Thor just snickered. "And you love me."_

"_Hmm, I am doomed," Eir sighed, leaning up to her lover, his lips meeting hers deeply for a moment before Thor groaned, and swatted his brother's shoulder with his paw like hand. _

"_Brother, please…" he moaned. "This is the day of my greatest triumph, and you're acting like two lovestruck dwarves."_

_As Loki leaned back, Eir thought she glimpsed a shadow pass over his face at his brother's words, but it was so swift she dismissed it as pure fancy. For all his envy, he was proud of his brother._

"_You're just jealous, brother, that I am soon to wed the love of my life and you are still a lonely bachelor," Loki told him jokingly, making the God of Thunder guffaw. Eir decided to look affronted._

"_You may keep your soon-to-be marital bliss, brother. I prefer my bachelorhood," he grinned, as Eir narrowed her eyes._

"_Be very careful, Thor," she warned him, only half-jokingly. Loki chuckled._

"_Remember, she is half Valkyrie," he reminded him, and Thor rolled his eyes before the levity passed, and his face grew solemn once more._

_With a bow, the servant presented Thor with his helmet, Loki and Eir watching him as he eyed it almost contemplatively._

_If Thor had been capable of contemplation, that is. _

_Realising Thor's need for his brother's company, she leaned up to press a kiss to her betrothed's lips one last time, disengaging from his arms with a smile._

"_I must take my place. The Queen only sent me to make sure you're both ready," she told them softly, before turning and walking away, feeling her betrothed's eyes on her as she glided away._

* * *

"_You are lucky, brother," Thor admitted quietly. "Just don't tell her I said that."_

"_You would never hear the end of it," Loki agreed. _

_Then Eir's voice drifted in, through the drapes, airy and teasing. "I heard that!"_

* * *

_On her way to the throne room, Eir passed Volstagg and Fandral, the former eying the platters of food servants bore past him lustily, and the latter preening in a mirror, surrounded by maidens._

"_Eir!" the golden-haired warrior laughed. "How delightful you look! You should wear gowns more often!"_

_Volstagg took a double take, as Eir just rolled her eyes. "You in a dress…" he shook his head. "We must mark this momentous occasion. Now I really have seen everything!"_

"_Not quite. I haven't seen Sif in a dress for five hundred years," Fandral replied, making his entourage of ladies titter. _

"_Hush, you," Eir said, not unkindly. "I suspect that if my future mother-in-law has her way, they will become a permanent thing when in residence in the palace."_

"_But only in residence, eh?" Fandral's eyes twinkled, making Eir laugh. True, she was the Goddess of Mercy and Healing, but she was also half Valkyrie. Her warrior half was too strong to keep repressed, and she had accompanied the Warriors Three and Lady Sif on many an adventure with the royal brothers. "Now, would you like to polish my sword?" he asked hopefully, whipping out the already gleaming sabre, as Eir rolled her eyes at the innuendo._

"_I think Loki might just turn you into a toad for a few centuries for that," she replied. "Besides, I'm not entirely sure it would be worth the effort."_

_Fandral clutched his heart as if wounded, while Eir endured glares from his admirers. "I am done for!" he cried dramatically. "My lady has hit me fatally."_

"_Luckily for you, else I might have been tempted by the toad idea," Loki's voice suddenly came from behind Eir, as she felt his hand snake around her waist, possessively. Fandral and Volstagg just grinned. "Now, I believe we must take our places."_

_And with that, they took their leave of their friends, emerging into the ever more crowded throne room, and taking their place on the steps of the dais, below Queen Frigga, glimmering in diamonds and golden silk, her flaxen hair pinned apart from one long, curling tress which trailed down her neck._

_The Queen smiled gently at the sight of her youngest son and his future bride, a woman who had long been as dear as a daughter to her, the young beauty squeezing her betrothed's hand before clasping hers before her, the spring green folds of her gown flowing over the step below, the silver coronet and chains trailing over her hair shining in the light of the throne room._

_Eir looked down at the Warriors Three and Lady Sif, joking and bantering, the latter clothed in her warrior's gear._

_It was alright for some._

_She glared at her friend and sparring partner as she took up her place on the step below her, and the Warrior Goddess eyed her, before smirking._

"_Well, if you will marry into royalty," she breathed, making Eir growl._

"_Oh, be quiet," the Goddess of Healing muttered. "And I could still change my mind."_

"_Don't you dare," a familiar growled voice whispered, letting her know her future husband had heard her exchange with Sif. She glanced up, and met his dark gaze, smirking innocently. His grin suddenly turned wicked, and a shiver ran down her back. "Or I rather think a punishment might be in order later," he continued quietly, sliding his hand down her arm and encircling her wrist, holding it gently, one long, clever finger caressing in downward strokes, until it slid into her palm and through the gap between two of her own digits. Eir sucked in a breath, catching Sif's amused eye._

"_I can really see how torn you are," the warrior joked sarcastically, as Eir blushed, Loki chuckled, and the future Princess determinedly looked out at the crowd in defiance of the blush on her cheeks and the growing sense of anticipation welling in her stomach._

* * *

_Suddenly, the trumpets sounded and the people cheered, as Loki's hand left hers to clasp behind his back, and she stood proudly as the All-Father ascended the dais to his throne, standing regally in his golden armour, Gungnir standing tall and mighty in his hand._

_The trumpets rang again, the people began to cheer, as Thor appeared, mighty and strong in his silver armour and crimson cloak, smiling and laughing as he walked the long path to the dais, throwing the great hammer Mjolnir into the air laughingly, the lights of the sun and stars glinting off his winged helmet._

"_Oh, please!" she heard Sif laugh below her, and she shook her head ruefully._

"_If his head gets any bigger, that helmet might just crack open," she quipped, making both Asgardians either side of her chuckle. At last Thor reached the bottom of the dais, and knelt, but not before winking roguishly up at his mother and brother._

_The All-Father rose to his feet, and smote the floor with Gungnir once, and silence fell._

"_Thor Odinson, my heir…" he began, pride and strength echoing in every word. Eir felt Loki tense slightly beside her, and she knew he felt the sting of his father's words even if he hid it well. Wordlessly, she reached out, sliding her hand around his wrist, hidden by the drape of her sleeves and his cloak. Just as silently, he accepted her support, holding her hand tightly in his own as Odin continued. "My firstborn. So long entrusted with the mighty hammer, Mjolnir, forged in the heart of a dying star. Its power has no equal, as a weapon to destroy or a tool to build. It is a fit companion for a King. I have defended Asgard and the lives of the innocent across the Nine Realms from the time of the Great Beginning. But the day has come for me to relinquish my throne and my duty to you, Thor Odinson."_

_The King paused, gathering his breath, while Thor waited on his knees, seemingly patient but Eir could see the coiled tension, the impatience to take the throne and his father's rule._

_At last the King spoke again. "Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?" he asked._

"_I swear," Thor replied._

"_And do you swear to preserve the peace?"_

"_I swear," Thor vowed, but Eir doubted it. Thor was a warrior, he needed war like he needed to breathe. Unease swirled inside her, but there was nothing she could do. Odin had chosen Thor as his successor, for better or worse, and she must abide by that decision. She loved Thor as a brother, but that didn't make her blind._

"_Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and to pledge yourself only to the good of Asgar-"_

"_I swear!" Thor roared, thrusting Mjolnir high into the air. _

"_Then on this day, I Odin All-Father, proclaim you…" the All-Father paused, as the people waited, breath bated. Eir felt Loki tense beside her._

_Something was wrong._

"_The Frost Giants!" Odin breathed, as the crowd gasped and cried out, Thor rising to his feet, looking ready to rush off and destroy those creatures who had dared enter Asgard. But then Odin once more smote the floor with Gungnir, and everyone quietened._

_His gaze turned inward, and he stood as a statue, while everyone waited. He did not quite relax, but his breath came deeper, and the people stilled. "The intruders have been eliminated. The Destroyer did its work," he pronounced. He looked to his sons. "Come!"_

_Wordlessly, the brothers followed their father, leaving the Queen, Eir, Sif and the Warriors Three behind._

_The Coronation was postponed, and the people returned to their homes in the City, while Frigg, Eir, Sif and the others waited. _

_Although Eir wasn't about to pass up the chance to slip back into more comfortable attire. As she left the throne room, she caught Frigg's eye, and the Queen simply laughed and shook her head ruefully._

"_I will transform you into a princess yet," she called warningly, as the others laughed. Eir just shook her head as she returned to her chambers._

_She shed the heavy gown gratefully, conjuring away the coronet, slipping into her dark red warrior's leathers, slipping on the long grey, sleeveless, hooded robe which denoted her status as a healer, and braiding her hair back tightly._

_Much better._

* * *

_Just as Eir left her chambers, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three rounded the corner, and they beckoned to her gravely._

"_We go to find Thor. There are rumours that he has quarrelled with the All-Father and the coronation is postponed," Sif told her, as the warrior-healer fell into step beside them._

_It wasn't exactly difficult to locate Thor._

_As they approached the Great Hall, they heard a roar and a great crash, and they hurried inside._

* * *

"_Redecorating are we?" Sif asked sarcastically, as they entered to see one of the great long tables overturned, the feast that had been laid out covering the floor. Volstagg gasped in horror._

"_What's this?" he asked._

"_I told you they'd cancel it," Hogan pronounced grimly, as they approached the prince, where he had taken a seat on one of the long steps leading to the terrace._

"_And we thought you were just being your normal cheery self," Fandral teased, making Eir roll her eyes. _

"_All this food…so innocent…just cast to the ground…breaks the heart," Volstagg continued to lament._

"_I'm sure you will remedy that, Volstagg, soon enough," Eir quipped, as she continued towards Thor. Loki appeared from behind a pillar, clad now in his leathers instead of his formal armour. Eir stopped and waited._

_If anyone could sooth his brother's temper, it was Loki. _

_She could feel the disappointment just rolling off of Thor, and sighed. He wasn't ready to be King, but she still felt for him. _

"_It is unwise to be in my company right now, brother," Thor growled, glaring at the overturned table. _

"_Who said I was wise?" Loki joked, although his face remained serious. His eyes rose to his betrothed, waiting pensively to the side in dark red leathers and her grey Healer's robe. Such a gaping contrast, of warrior and healer, strong and soft, violent and peaceful._

_But then again, that was why he loved her._

"_I see you escaped Mother long enough to change," he told her cockily, while she just shook her head, one fine brow rising as his gaze slid hungrily over her slender form._

"_She will see me in silks and satins yet, and once your mother is determined…not even all the demons of Hel could be enough to stop her," she replied, drawing a grin from Loki and chuckles from the warriors behind her. But Thor remained brooding, as their smiles faded._

"_This was to be my day of triumph," he snarled, caught in his own resentment and anger. Loki's attention snapped back to his brother._

"_It will come in time," he murmured soothingly. But not even Loki's soothing voice could dissipate Thor's anger. He glanced at Eir, then turned back to his brother. "If it's any consolation, I think you're right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything. If they found a way to penetrate Asgard's defences once, who's to say they won't try again, next time with an army…"_

"_Exactly!" Thor spat. _

"…_but there's nothing you can do without defying Father," Loki finished. Then he saw the look on his face at the same time as Eir._

"_Yes. There is," he said, standing quickly. Loki's already pale face whitened._

"_No, stop. I know that look, stop right there!" he said urgently, eying his brother piercingly. _

"_It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders," Thor argued. _

"_Thor, it's madness," Loki protested. _

"_Would you be saying as much if they had harmed Eir? Or our family?" Thor demanded, making Loki freeze. Eir glared at Thor. _

"_They could try," she snapped. "But they would not succeed."_

_Sif and the Warriors Three were too far away to hear most of the siblings' and Eir's spat, but Volstagg heard some of it._

"_Madness? What sort of madness?" he demanded, still gathering up breads and cheeses in his great hands. _

"_It's nothing. Thor was merely making a jest," Loki murmured, trying to diffuse the situation. _

"_The safety of our realm is no jest, brother," the God of Thunder replied tersely, before turning to his friends. "We're going to Jotunheim."_

_Eir's heart sank. This, __**THIS**__, was why Thor was not yet ready to be King. With gritted teeth, she looked pleadingly to Loki._

_If anyone could persuade Thor against his quest, it was his brother. _

_But Loki simply sighed, and placed his head in his hand. Ignoring Thor, and Sif as the woman warrior began to argue, she went to her betrothed's side._

"_Loki, please. You must stop this before he goes too far," she hissed. "You know what will happen if he goes to Jotunheim. War."_

"_I know," Loki replied. "But his mind is set. I cannot stop him, and in truth I am curious for answers. But the truce must not be violated…" he frowned, before reaching up and squeezing her hand. "I will think of something."_

_Thor's voice suddenly pierced their secret conversation, prompting Eir to turn and watch her future brother-in-law as he waxed poetical._

"_My friends, have you forgotten all that we have done together?" he asked, then pointed to Fandral. "Who brought you into the sweet embrace of the most exotic maidens in all Yggdrasil?"_

"_Well, you helped a little," Fandral admitted, making Thor laugh and clap his shoulder. _

"_And, Hogan, who led you into the most glorious of battles?" Thor turned to the grim warrior next. _

"_You did," he grunted, with a slight quirk of the lips which was not quite a smile, but near enough. _

"_And to delicacies so succulent, you thought you had died and gone to Valhalla?" he finished, clapping Volstagg on the shoulder as the portly giant prepared a sandwich. _

_A dreamy look entered the red-haired warrior's eyes, as he grinned. "You did."_

_Thor turned to Sif, Loki and Eir, the latter stood beside her betrothed, eying him coolly. _

"_And who proved wrong all who scoffed at the idea that a young maiden could become one of the fiercest warriors this realm has ever known?" he asked Sif, who narrowed her eyes pointedly._

"_**I**__ did,"_

"_True, but I supported you, Sif. And Loki, Eir, whose superior powers of matchmaking finally saw you two hit the nail on the head and agree to wed?" he asked them, as Eir rolled her eyes and sighed._

"_I wouldn't exactly call your powers of matchmaking 'superior', Thor," she retorted. "If I recall correctly, it involved spooking my horse so I fell and Loki caught me."_

"_It worked, didn't it?" Thor asked, innocently, making his brother and Eir sigh, fondly exasperated. "My friends, trust me on this!" he called, passing Eir to stand beside his still seated brother, gesturing to the two of them. "You're not going to let my brother and I take all the glory, are you?"_

"_What?" Loki breathed._

"_You're coming with me, aren't you?" Thor replied, quietly. Eir watched the slow smile spread across Loki's face, and knew they were doomed. Brothers…_

"_Yes, of course," Loki vowed, standing tall and proud beside his brother. "I won't let my brother march into Jotunheim alone."_

_Eir groaned. _

"_And I!" Volstagg declared. _

"_And I," Fandral joined in._

"_And I," Hogan added. "The Warriors Three fight together."_

_Thor looked to Sif and Eir, both stood tall and graceful as lilies in the Great Hall._

_Eir sighed, ignoring the slight shake of Loki's head as she answered. "Well, you're going to need someone to sew you back together again after the Frost Giants are finished with you."_

"_I fear we will live to regret this," Sif capitulated, pressing her fist to her chest and bowing before turning away, the Warriors Three following suit. Eir turned and left the Hall to prepare, Loki's eyes following her all the way out._

* * *

_She went to her chambers and swapped her robe for a hooded one lined with white fur. She buckled metal bracers to her forearms and lower legs, checking the buckles of her leathers before reaching for her weapons._

_They lay on a marble table in the centre of her rooms, her bow, Tunglskin, and her long knives Sigr and Drengskapr, nestled on pillows of emerald velvet, gleaming in the light of the torches. She took up her knives, spun them once in her fists and sliced a single hair from her head to check their sharpness, before sliding them into their sheaves and strapping the belt to her waist. She was just about to pick up her bow and quiver when a slender, pale hand stayed her wrist._

_Loki._

_She eyed him for one moment, body now clad in his light armour, knives tucked in his arm bracers and boots, and the concern in those dark eyes, and then turned away._

"_If you're contemplating ordering me to stay behind, and you think I'm going to obey, you've got another thing coming," she snapped, testing the bowstring on Tunglskin, before stowing the bow on her back. She felt his sigh, as he pressed his body against her back, and she relaxed into his arms._

"_I thought you would say that," he sighed. "So I won't bother."_

"_Good," Eir muttered, eyes drifting closed as his lips drifted over the sliver of skin left exposed, below her jaw, by her leathers. "You're finally learning the wisdom of not arguing with me."_

"_It is particularly fruitless when I can instead have the pleasure of feeling you melting into my arms," he whispered into her ear, one hand sliding down her waist seductively, indeed making her melt into him. Her leathers absorbed the heat of his hands, warming her body through and making her heart pound. She forced herself to turn in his arms, shuddering as his hand drifted from her abdomen to her back due to the movement._

_She eyed his deceptively innocent look, and didn't believe it for a moment. "You aren't imagining you can seduce me into remaining behind?" she asked, annoyingly breathless._

_He grinned wolfishly. "Would I do a thing like that?" he asked, his thumb drawing circles on her lower back, between her robe and her leathers. One fine brow on Eir's face rose, prompting him to chuckle. "Perish the thought, my love," he murmured, his handsome face easing back into his would be innocent look._

"_I rather think your reputation as the God of Lies is overstated, my prince," she breathed. "You've never been innocent in your life."_

_And she wouldn't have wanted him any either way. Both knew it, and that knowledge made Loki's grin all the more mischievous when he replied._

"_I don't think I appreciate your tone, my lady," he hissed, leaning in. "Perhaps I should teach you the proper way to address a prince."_

_Mouth suddenly dry, Eir just laughed. "I always was a slow learner."_

_Her hands slid into his hair as their lips met, relishing dark silk under her palms. She moaned against his mouth, his reputation for having a clever tongue frighteningly true in more ways than one._

_His arms strained her closer, sliding one knee between hers. Eir broke away with a gasp, sliding her hands from his hair to frame his elegant face. "When we return, come to my bed tonight. It's been far too long," she breathed._

"_As my lady wishes," he replied heatedly, before reclaiming her lips. A violently cleared throat made them pause, then Loki straightened with a sigh. "Brother, we're rather busy," he muttered, looking towards the blonde Prince standing in the doorway with a raised eyebrow._

"_I can see that. Perhaps you'd rather stay?" Thor asked teasingly. Loki grumbled but let Eir go, allowing her to breathe and regain her composure._

"_Someone has to keep an eye on you, brother dear," the younger Prince muttered, following his brother out of Eir's chambers and down the corridor to where Lady Sif and the Warriors Three waited, Eir following in their wake._

* * *

_They emerged from the palace, and into a side courtyard where their horses awaited them. The Warriors' and Lady Sif's weapons waited on a marble bench, glimmering in the late afternoon sunlight._

"_We must find a way to get past Heimdall," Thor began, musing as he checked the catches of his armour._

"_That will be no easy task," Volstagg pronounced. "It's said the Gatekeeper can see a single drop of dew fall from a blade of grass, a thousand worlds away!"_

_The whole group chuckled, as Fandral teased his comrade. "Yes, and he can hear a cricket passing gas in Niffelheim."_

"_He can probably smell it too," Eir added._

"_Jest not!" Volstagg gasped. "He heareth all!"_

"_Please," Fandral scoffed, as the two walked towards their mounts. "Passing him should be simple enough now, since he seems to be letting Frost Giants sneak by under his nose!"_

"_Oh, forgive him, he meaneth no offence!" the red-haired warrior spoke to the skies. Eir shook her head, following in their wake until she realised her lover wasn't beside her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him talking to one of the guards, before he caught her eye and came to join her._

"_What was that about?" she asked suspiciously. Loki smiled._

"_Nothing, my love," he breathed, and her eyes narrowed but she let it go. She flicked her hood up, covering her long blonde braid, and went to her mount, a large black stallion who greeted her with a whinny and a nudge of his great nose. Loki, however, he snorted and bared his teeth at._

"_Your brute never did like me," he sighed, prompting a mock-outraged glance from Eir._

"_Do not call my darling a 'brute'. He's just jealous of you," she told him, mounting gracefully, while Loki did the same. He grinned, leaning in and stealing a kiss from her lips._

"_For good reason," he growled quietly, making her blush and look away._

"_When you're ready, brother," Thor called tauntingly. Loki took up Einar's reins and merely smirked arrogantly. Eir met Sif's eye, and glared until the grinning warrior looked away._

_With a glance at Loki, Thor pushed his mount to gallop, the others following in his wake, as they rode for the Gate, and Jotunheim._

_The City of Asgard flashed past them as they galloped from the palace to the Lower City, and through the Gates to the Asbru Bridge, the rainbow crystal below their mounts' hooves ringing with their passage. The wind from the ocean and the stars above their heads whipped their hair back behind them, Eir's and Sif's long tresses streaming like pennants forged of gold and ebony._

_Before the Bifrost, they reined their mounts in, dropping from the saddles. Some feet away stood Heimdall, Keeper of the Bifrost Gate, the great sword Hofud clutched in his strong hands. His golden armour gleamed in the light of the stars._

_His all-seeing eyes pierced them as the group moved towards the Gatekeeper. Loki stepped forward with a confident grin. "Leave this to me," he told Thor, winking at Eir. "Good Heimdall…"_

"_You're not dressed warmly enough," the Gatekeeper interjected. Eir tensed._

"_I'm sorry?" Loki asked, innocently._

"_Do you think that you can deceive me?" Heimdall continued. Loki smiled and opened his mouth._

"_You must be mistaken-"_

"_Enough!" Thor interrupted, stepping around his brother impatiently. "Heimdall, may we pass?"_

"_Never has an enemy slipped my watch until this day," the Gatekeeper replied calmly. "I wish to know how that happened."_

"_Then tell no one where we have gone until we have returned. Understand?" the God of Thunder barked, before walking around the Gatekeeper and leading the way into the Bifrost chamber._

"_What happened? Silver tongue turned to lead?" Volstagg teased Loki, as he passed. The Prince's jaw tightened, but he did not reply, following Eir into the chamber, as she glanced at him exasperatedly. _

_Inside the great, iridescent chamber, the seven warriors took up their place before the Gate, Eir's hand brushing Loki's as she took her place beside him. _

_Heimdall slid Hofud into the central console, and the crackling echo of power filled the air around them, filling small chamber with silvery tendrils of light. The chamber began to rotate, faster and faster, while the gateway in front of them lit with the blinding, flashing light as the path to Jotunheim began to open._

"_Be warned," Heimdall spoke behind them. "I will honour my sworn oath to protect this realm as its Gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, Bifrost will remain closed. You will be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim."_

"_Couldn't you just leave the bridge open for us?" Volstagg asked nervously. _

"_To leave the bridge open would be to unleash the full power of the Bifrost and destroy Jotunheim with you upon it," Heimdall replied coolly. _

"_Of course," Eir sighed sarcastically. "Otherwise this would be just too easy."_

_Loki chuckled. "Easy is just no fun, love," he murmured, before Thor spoke._

"_I have no plans to die today."_

"_None do," Heimdall sighed, before the gate pulled them in, yanking them from Asgard and into the chaotic vortex of Bifrost._

* * *

_They landed on Jotunheim with a resounding crash, ice splintering across the ground where they landed, a chill wind plucking at the edges of their cloaks and hair. Eir was suddenly very glad she had chosen to change her robe for the fur-lined one._

_She withdrew Tunglskin from her quiver, the silver-chased bow gleaming, and nocked an arrow in readiness._

_She had never been to Jotunheim, but she knew she would not be saddened to leave. It was a desolate, icy place. Great black clouds obscured the sunlight, and constant flurries of snow drifted across the group._

_The remains of ancient cliffs jutted from the landscape, high into the sky like jagged blades; stalactites, unstable and lethal, collapsed under their own weight, threatening to impale and crush the unwary. Behind them was a great chasm, dropping down into darkness, the snow flurries dancing across it like tiny icy fairies._

_The wind picked up, violently throwing the snow around in the air, whipping at their legs and cloak, any uncovered skin already growing colder. Eir felt it in her bones._

"_We shouldn't be here," Hogan grunted. Eir fully agreed with him. The silence was torturous and damning, warning the invaders not to intrude further._

"_Let's move," Thor breathed, taking the lead. Eir went to follow, before she felt Loki's strong hand brush her wrist where it held her bow in readiness. _

"_Stay close to me," he whispered. She glanced into his eyes, and saw the plea was not from a lack of trust in her abilities, but the need to know she was with him and safe. She nodded once, before flicking her hood back up from where it had fallen during the ride from Asgard, making her look like an ice queen, a figure fully at home in this icy hell._

_No one spoke as they walked, too tense, nerves jangling, even their very breath suspended as the silence infected their limbs. _

_The wind spoke with a clear voice: Turn Back._

_They approached what appeared to be a chaotic jumble of fallen stalactites, before Eir recognised stone mixed in with the dark onyx of the stony ice, and felt her heart beat faster._

_They were near the ruins of the City of the Jotuns._

_Still nothing moved, as they penetrated deeper into the ruined city, except for the rocky screams of ice and stone as it collapsed under its own weight, the silence all-consuming._

"_Where are they?" Sif asked, tersely._

"_Hiding. As cowards always do," Thor replied coldly. _

_At last they reached a clear space in the chaos of the ruins, ringed in by the rocky path behind them, and the icy, deadly looking mass of ice and stone before them. _

"_You've come a long way to die, Asgardians," a voice colder than the wind, more poisonous than any serpent, echoed from the ruins. The group instinctively paused, fanning out, their hands on their weapons._

_Eir moved a little too far away, and Loki glared at her, prompting her to move back towards him with a sigh and roll of her eyes. _

"_I am Thor Odinson," Thor announced proudly._

"_We know who you are," the voice replied._

"_How did your people get into Asgard?" he asked, fiercely, Mjolnir loose and ready in his hand._

_For a moment, only silence reigned, before the voice spoke again, its tone cool but taunting. "The House of Odin is full of traitors."_

"_Do not dishonour my father's name with your lies!" Thor growled, enraged, hefting Mjolnir threateningly._

_There came a great screech of stone, as if being rent apart, then a towering figure materialised from the maze of black ice. His blood red eyes pierced them all, his blue skin marked by long ridges almost like scars, his voice growling like the tortured scream of rock as it is ground by a glacier._

_Laufey, King of the Frost Giants._

"_Your father is a murderer and a thief," he spat. "And why have you come here? To make peace?" he asked, scornfully. "You long for battle, you crave it. You're nothing but a boy, trying to prove himself a man."_

_The others shifted uneasily, as Frost Giants melted away from the ruins, surrounding them. Eir's fingers tightened on her bowstring, Hogan shifted his weight, Volstagg's hands closed on the shaft of his axe, Sif's jaw tightened as she eyed the oncoming Frost Giants, Fandral reached for the hilt of his sabre, and Loki's quick eyes, as cold as the ice around them, flitted from one Giant to another._

_Thor however, appeared oblivious. "This __**boy**__ grows tired of your mockery," he snarled. The surrounding Frost Giant warriors suddenly wielded icy blades in their hands, conjured from the chill air around them._

_Loki tried to speak reason to his brother. "Thor, stop and think. Look around you, we're outnumbered."_

"_Know your place, brother," was Thor's only reply, shrugging off his brother's hand._

"_You know not what your actions would unleash," Laufey continued. "I do. Go. Now. While I still allow it."_

_A monstrous Giant approached the two Princes, glowering at Thor, daring him to disobey. _

"_We will accept your most gracious offer," Loki replied, his tone as smooth as honey, betraying none of the tension Eir could see in his strong, lithe frame. Thor's jaw clenched but he said nothing. "Come on, brother!"_

_Loki turned away, followed eventually by Thor, as the group began to move away._

_Then the Frost Giant spoke. "Run back home, little princess."_

_Eir mentally groaned. Loki's exasperated "Damn!" summed it up rather well._

* * *

_Thor hefted Mjolnir, and turned, smashing the offending Frost Giant out of existence. "Next?" he called, cockily. Then all hell broke loose._

_Eir had loosed an arrow before the closest Giant to her moved, moving backwards as she searched for higher ground. _

_The others sprang into battle, Sif's double-ended blade spear scything through her attackers without mercy._

_Volstagg roared and grappled with the Frost Giants, his axe flashing as he hewed them down. _

_Hogan's spiked mace crashed into one Giant after another, until an ice wall sprang up, knocking him to the ground._

_Fandral danced through his fight, his sabre whirling in a vortex of lethal metal._

_But it was Loki Eir watched from the corner of her eye, as she loosed arrow after arrow, turning and spinning, taking only seconds to aim, the bowstring of Tunglskin singing as it did its work._

_Loki fought as he did most things: elegantly and with precision. Long blades leapt from his hands, meeting their target with a deadly accuracy that Thor, with all his strength and might, could not match._

_Of course Loki noticed her preoccupation, and grinned wolfishly. "Enjoying the show?" he called, smugly. Eir narrowed her eyes as another Frost Giant fell to his knees before her, an arrow embedded in his throat. His eyes widened, and horror filled his eyes. "Eir, behind you!"_

_She spun in time to see a Frost Giant leap at her, an ice dagger in his great fist. She blocked his stab with Tunglskin, but the Giant shoved her back towards the edge of the precipice, and she teetered, her balance precarious._

_She ducked another attack, dropped Tunglskin and whipped Sigr, the blade of Victory flashing as it sliced open the Giant's chest. He fell with a groan at her feet._

_She was briefly aware of Thor's yelled taunt, "At least make it a challenge for me!" before one of the Frost Giants slammed his fist into the ground a few feet from Eir, turning it into a slippery river of ice, causing her to once again teeter on the edge. Her boots lost their grip, she began to fall…_

_The Frost Giant fell, a shining blade embedded in his head, and then Loki was there, pulling her up and into his arms, his handsome face hard._

_He released her with just a nod, but his eyes promised retribution when they were safe and alone, back in Asgard. Eir shivered, and it wasn't from the cold._

_She retrieved Tunglskin, stowing it safely in her now empty quiver, and drew Drengskapr, spinning them in her fists and launching herself into closer battle._

_She saw Hogan knocked down by an ice boulder, and threw Sigr towards the Frost Giant now bearing down on the warrior, its blade slicing into flesh and muscle with ease. She held out her hand and it returned, the handle flying into her grip as she turned to confront another Giant._

_Loki had enchanted them to return to her, in a similar way as Mjolnir, after they had been forged for her, centuries before._

_The Giant charged her, as she flipped over his head, Drengskapr flashing in the gloom as it cut through the armoured helmet, blood turning to ice as it left the Giant's body. She landed gracefully, Drengskapr returning to her hand when she turned and saw a sight to make her heart stop._

_Loki stood at the edge of the cliff, a Frost Giant rushing towards him with a savage roar. With a cry, she rushed towards him but she was too far away…_

_Then the Giant lunged and dove through Loki, falling over the precipice, his cry echoing up the canyon as he fell. Eir slid to a halt, before her mind caught up with her body._

_Loki had copied himself._

_With a sigh of relief, and a mental promise to get him back for that scare later, she glared at him as he emerged from behind a pillar with a grin and a mischievous twinkle when he caught her gaze._

_They heard Volstagg's roar of mingled pain and fury, as he grappled with a Frost Giant, and spun to face him._

"_Don't let them touch you!" he called warningly. Eir tried to reach him, to heal him, but was distracted by another Giant rushing her from her right, and kicked out, bringing the Giant to his knees with a grunt, and then ducking beneath the guard of his ice blade, and stabbing him through the heart._

_Her inner Valkyrie sang as Drengskapr and Sigr danced their deadly duet._

_She saw Loki charge a Frost Giant, his blade sliding home, the monster collapsing to his knees, but not before he grabbed Loki's forearm. Eir charged towards him, as Loki's arm shook, the armour and leather melting away but when she reached them, she didn't see frostbite._

_Loki's skin had turned blue._

_Eir's eyes widened, matching Loki's own, as he looked down then back at the Frost Giant, fear and disgust in his usually twinkling eyes. With a snarl, he stabbed the monster, and rose, flexing his hand as the skin returned to its normal hue._

_He glanced up and saw Eir, wide-eyed, frozen like an ice statue, unheeding of the danger around them._

_Fandral's cry of agony distracted them both._

_They turned to see him impaled by an ice spike, and as Eir rushed to his aid, Loki threw one of his knives, felling the Frost Giants who were rushing to finish Fandral off. _

_Sif, Hogan and Volstagg rushed to their friend, the latter two lifting him from the spike, and laying him down on the ground. Eir knelt beside him, pressing her hand into the wound, closing her eyes, willing her powers of healing to answer her call._

_She reached tendrils of magic into the wound, blocking the bleeding, creating a makeshift tourniquet but she needed to get him back to Asgard to heal him fully._

"_I've staunched the bleeding but I cannot heal him here," she told Sif. "We must return to Asgard."_

"_Thor!" Sif cried, as Volstagg hefted Fandral onto his shoulders. Eir turned, sheathed Drengskapr and Sigr, and drew Tunglskin, pulling two arrows from a dead Frost Giant and firing them in quick succession at two Giants rushing her future-brother-in-law from behind. They fell._

"_We must go!" Loki shouted._

_But Thor would not listen, the heat of battle in his blood as he smashed Giant after Giant with Mjolnir._

"_Then go!" he called back, not taking his eyes off the charging Giants._

"_Come on!" Eir called to the others, leading the way over the treacherous landscape. With a thrill of fear, she glimpsed Laufey strike the ground with his fist, a river of ice spreading from him to a great ice-ridden monolith, its surface cracking to reveal a great beast, with curling horns and flaming eyes, which leapt forward with a roar._

_She noticed Loki, standing and watching his brother. She raced to his side and took his arm. "Come, Loki. Thor will come," she breathed. His eyes pierced hers, and she remembered his blue skin, nausea rolling in her stomach. She pushed it away, and pulled at his arm, strong as granite. "Come away!"_

_With a tightening of his jaw, Loki ran with her._

_She heard him call his brother's name as they sprinted, the ground collapsing beneath their feet at the coming of the Ice Beast, forcing them to jump and attempt to outrace the steadily disintegrating ground._

_The Beast reached them, its tail spiked like Hogan's mace, slamming into the ground and almost catching Sif as she ducked between the deadly spikes. Eir called her name in desperation, but then the warrior was free, and she ran on._

_A stalagmite collapsed, rent by the Beast's claws, and nearly crushed Eir and Hogan, but they rolled and came up on their feet, as the creature roared in frustration. The Bifrost site was getting nearer, but Thor had not come._

_Suddenly there came a great crash of thunder, lightning flaming across the sky, and the ground fell from beneath them, as the Beast floundered and then disappeared, Fandral's laugh of pained triumph echoing around them._

_Eir's heart pounded, her blood singing even as her soul cried out at the deaths of those she had killed and who had died just then. She was part Valkyrie but she was also part Healer. She did not rejoice in death._

_A crevasse opened up in the snow and rock before them, and they leapt it, skidding to a halt on the edge of the cliff face where they had landed._

"_Heimdall! Open the Bridge!" Volstagg called, but there came no answering beam of light._

_Eir remembered the Gatekeeper's words._

"_**If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, Bifrost will remain closed. You will be left to die in the cold wastes of Jotunheim."**_

_Then a clawed foot reached over the cliff edge, and the Ice Beast pulled itself up, growling triumphantly as they backed away. It roared, and Eir drew Sigr and Drengskapr once more, her hands tight around the hilts. Once again, she drew close to her betrothed, as she glared defiantly up at the creature._

_But as the creature reared up on its hind legs, claws raised to crush them, a whirl of scarlet and silver crashed into it, and out through its fanged mouth. The creature's eyes rolled back into its head, and it collapsed with a dying growl._

_Stunned, barely able to breathe, Eir watched as Thor landed, Mjolnir hefted in his great hand, triumphant and proud._

"_Did you really have to be so messy?" she quipped caustically, as the Beast slipped over the edge of the precipice and into the abyss below. He turned to face them with a cocky grin, but it faded. Heart sinking, Eir turned with Loki and the others to see hundreds of Frost Giants surrounding them on the plain, Laufey at their head._

_They were impossibly outnumbered, even with Mjolnir. _

_Eir caught Loki's eye, and smiled a touch sadly, the memory of that blue tone rushing up his arm like a virus at the touch of the Frost Giant unimportant then. He was her lover, and they were going to die. Wordlessly, she moved closer to him, their hands brushing as they gripped their weapons tighter, prepared to die as warriors._

_The Frost Giants charged…_

_Then everything became a blur of light and noise, the wind whirling around them as a horse's neigh echoed like a horn of battle, and they turned to see Sleipnir, the great steed rearing into the air, his four front legs flailing, as deadly as clubs._

_The All-Father sat atop him, Gungnir in his mighty hand, his armour shining like a star._

"_Father! We'll finish them together!" Thor roared in triumph. Sleipnir quietened, as Odin hissed at his son._

"_Silence!"_

_Laufey called the rock to bear him, bringing him to eye level with Odin. _

"_All Father, you look weary," he purred, and the sound made Eir's skin crawl as she sheathed her weapons._

"_Laufey," Odin began, "End this now."_

"_Your boy sought this out," the Frost Giant King murmured._

"_You're right. These are the actions of a boy. Treat them as such," Odin replied. Eir felt Thor bristle angrily, but he did not speak. They watched and listened, tense and on edge, as Laufey and Odin traded barbs and threats, Odin trying to smooth over Thor's indiscretion as the tricks of a boy._

_But it was too late. Thor had brought war upon Asgard._

_Laufey smiled and went to strike the All-Father with an ice dagger, but Odin knocked him back, and then they were consumed by the Bifrost, rocketing upwards to Asgard._

* * *

_Once they were safely inside the Bifrost chamber, Volstagg's strength collapsed as he fell to his knees, Fandral tumbling to the floor._

"_Why did you bring us back?" Thor demanded of his father as Odin dismounted Sleipnir and the great horse took himself to his stable. Eir rushed to Fandral and Volstagg, her warrior blood cooling now they were home and safe once more._

_Odin turned on his son in anger. "Do you realise what you've done? What you've started?"_

"_I was protecting my home!" Thor replied angrily. _

"_You cannot even protect your friends, how can you hope to protect the kingdom!" Odin withdrew Hofud from the Bifrost console and threw it to Heimdall, who bowed and withdrew. He gestured to Sif, the Warriors Three and Eir. "Get to the Healing Room! Now!"_

_Volstagg and Hogan lifted Fandral between them, his arms over each shoulder, and began to walk him quickly out of the chamber, hastened by the All-Father's wrath. Sif followed._

_Eir lingered, her eyes going to Loki, before he smiled a little, and nodded. Reassured, she inclined her head to the All-Father and turned away, the skirts of her robe flowing behind her, hurrying after her charges, the angry voices of Odin and Thor ringing in her ears._

* * *

_Later, when Fandral and Volstagg were taken care of and ensconced in their chambers, Eir slipped away to change, and to wash the blood from their wounds from her hands._

_All of them had suffered a few scrapes, Sif had cut her cheek from some ice shards a Frost Giant had thrown at her, Hogan his arm, and of course Fandral's chest and upper right arm had been pierced. She had healed the wound, but he would need to rest to ensure the magical bonds she had placed on the muscle and the skin would not tear. Volstagg's frostbite would take time, but she would treat it with a salve, and it should be alright in a day or two._

_Once in her chambers, she stripped out of her warrior's leathers and robe, putting them aside to be cleaned. She washed the dried blood from her hands and arms, before inspecting the damage to her own body. She bled from a cut to her cheek, and a few smaller lacerations to her arms from the ice shards that had rained down on them at times. _

_Suddenly she felt a tremor deep within, and she gasped. Something had happened._

_Trying to push aside the sudden weakness she felt as pain and sadness washed over her, Eir washed her wounds and slipped into a light robe, undoing her braid to let her hair free. She cleaned it of any blood or stone fragments, and then brushed it until it shone._

_As she worked, her thoughts ran to that moment, when Loki's arm turned blue. She felt another tremor run through her, and she shuddered in response. What did it mean? Why hadn't he suffered frostbite like Volstagg did?_

_Loki had looked as shocked and fearful as she had felt. The colour had leached from his skin as quickly as it came. Did that mean…?_

_Eir closed her eyes and hid her face in her hands. A moment later, she raised her eyes to her reflection in her mirror, and her face hardened. Whatever had happened, it changed nothing. He was still Loki, her lover and betrothed, and she did not care what it meant. She loved him too much._

_She turned and gasped when she found her lover stood behind her, a dark presence in the light marble of her chambers, his hair dishevelled still from the fight on Jotunheim, and he looked…lost, almost bewildered. She breathed his name and went to him, as his arms held her tightly, almost too tight for her to breathe comfortably. She did not care._

_She felt his lips press against her neck once, twice before he drew back to meet her gaze._

"_Thor has been banished," he told her, in a hoarse voice. "To Earth."_

_Eir froze. Thor, banished? And to Earth?_

"_Father stripped him of his power, and of Mjolnir. Only those worthy of the power of Thor may wield it now," Loki continued. Her eyes searched his face, her mind frozen in shock._

_If Thor was gone, that meant…_

_Loki was the heir to the throne of Asgard. _

_Trembling slightly, she looked up. "Please, Loki, tell me you had nothing to do with this…" she trailed off, as Loki glowered down at her._

"_I disagreed with Thor's actions from the beginning, but I did not wish him gone. Nor did I plan it to be so," he told her through gritted teeth. She met his eyes and saw he was sincere._

_Wordlessly, she held him to her. He tensed for a moment, before she felt his head tuck itself against hers, and his arms tighten. She could feel the heat of them through her thin robe._

"_Forgive me, love," she breathed against the leather of his tunic. He sighed, and held her closer. She lifted her head from his chest, and saw all the questions in those piercing orbs, the suspicions, the fears._

_She felt them herself. He opened his mouth to speak, but she was faster, pulling his mouth against hers fiercely. He froze for a heartbeat, then reciprocated, pressing deeply into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. She was desperate to pretend nothing was wrong, that something did not hang between them, that they were just celebrating a safe return from battle, and the fact they were both alive and mostly unhurt._

_It seemed Loki shared her desperation._

_His armour and tunics melted away beneath her hands, leaving only warm, pale flesh. She traced each familiar muscle, each well-explored hollow of his body, as he walked them to her bed. They tumbled back onto its cushioning depths, and Eir arched as she felt her robe disappear, Loki's hands buried in her hair as he drew back, panting and hoarse._

"_I cannot lose you. Ever," he growled, but before she could answer, his lips were on hers once more, devouring, possessive. As he finally broke away, and his lips went to the long, arching column of her throat, she arched and cried her reply to the heated air._

"_You never will," she vowed, the words ringing in the air. No matter what happened next, she would not let this come between them._

_Her blood sang in her veins the way it usually did in battle, as he sheathed himself inside of her, making her cry out in ecstasy. She sought his lips with hers, and strove to show him, with her body, how much she loved him and how she would never forsake him. Ever._

_He was life to her. She would never let him go._

_Later, when both were spent, she lay in his arms, both propped up by the mass of pillows at the head of the bed, his long, clever fingers tracing a bruise from his hands on her shoulder. She smiled sleepily, as he kissed it, and glanced down to see it fade away._

_He had healed it._

"_Well, that's a novel way of healing bruises," she joked quietly. "I should try it sometime."_

"_I had a good teacher," he replied, making her smile deepen. She had been the one to teach him the healing arts, just as he had been the one to teach her to fight, all those long centuries ago. He kissed the spot where the bruise had been, before frowning as he glimpsed more, more that were not of his making. "You should have gone to the healers yourself."_

_Eir sighed. Unfortunately, her powers of healing did not work on herself. If she was wounded, another had to heal her. She shuddered in pleasure as Loki ran his hands over her body, erasing bruises and cuts. He kissed her shoulder once more, before capturing her lips, tilting his head to deepen it. She clung to him, one hand buried in the hair at the nape of his neck, before twisting around to pull herself against him fully._

_When they parted, he looked down, a small frown growing on his smooth brow. _

"_What is it?" Eir asked, concernedly._

"_I fear Thor's banishment is…long-term," he confessed. "I have never seen Father so angry. I don't think Thor calling him a fool helped matters."_

"_Thor was always too ready and too unthinking with his tongue," she mused. "Perhaps he may redeem himself one day."_

"_That is my hope," Loki murmured. "It will depend if he can prove himself worthy of Mjolnir again."_

"_If he does not…I have faith that you can rule Asgard with wisdom and courage when the time comes," Eir told him seriously. Loki smiled, a little sadly._

"_It's strange, really. I was always jealous of Thor, and how Father seemed to favour him, but even then…I have never wanted the throne. I just wanted to be Thor's equal in his eyes, and in Father's."_

"_You already are," Eir told him earnestly, stroking his face. "And even more importantly, you are the man I love."_

_Loki relaxed at her words, but she could see he didn't believe her words that he was Thor's equal. _

"_How fare the others? Is Fandral and Volstagg alright?" he asked._

"_I have healed Fandral's wound but he will need to rest it for a day, lest the magical bonds tear and he reopens it. Volstagg's arm will need to a salve to help his skin repair itself, but other than that, they are all well. I think they're in their common room," she told him. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif shared a common room where they went to talk and drink together, away from the court. Eir recalled many happy evenings spent in there, teasing and talking, reliving old feats, and more often than not, Sif and Eir proving they could out drink the men._

"_I should inform them of Thor's banishment myself," Loki released her, leaving the bed. He conjured fresh clothing to cover his body, while Eir reached for her robe. As she cinched the belt tight, she caught him staring at his hand, the one the Frost Giant had touched, and a lump rose in her throat._

_Turning away, she went to her clothes chest, to hunt out fresh leathers when Loki's arms slid around her waist._

"_Allow me," he whispered in her ear. She stood still while his hands slid down her body, heating her skin even after their lovemaking moments before. She felt her robe melt away again to be replaced by one of her dresses. She looked down and saw white silk, the hem dyed a light green and embroidered with flowers. The sleeves were the same shade, long and draped, opening from her wrist like arum lilies. Her bodice was the same shade of green as her hem and embroidered with the same pattern, the neckline sewn with tiny emeralds._

_Her eyes narrowed at her lover. "You're as bad as your mother," she told him haughtily, as she turned to face him. He brushed her golden hair back from her face, his eyes darkening for a moment, before he grinned devilishly, and the shadow lifted._

"_You love me for it," he growled, pulling her into his kiss. She moaned exasperatedly, pushing him away, and turning to leave._

"_Come, or we'll never leave my chambers," she called over her shoulder. She felt his presence at her back, and she could just imagine his mischievous grin._

"_You say that like it's a bad thing,"_

* * *

_They entered the Warriors Three's living quarters, and found them in their common room, Volstagg and Sif lounging on long, low-slung sofas, framed in gold and upholstered in crimson velvet. Hogan stood, glaring out the open window of the room, while Fandral lounged next to the fire._

_Sif stood as soon as they entered, anticipation on her lovely face. "Loki, what news? Where is Thor?"_

_Eir left the explanations to him, and immediately went to Fandral, kneeling beside him to check his wound beneath the sleeveless robe he wore. He was bare-chested beneath that._

_He grinned flirtatiously at her. "Always knew you couldn't wait to get your hands on me," he quipped, as her quick fingers probed the wound. He flinched. "OW!"_

_Loki smirked, before answering Sif. "Father has banished Thor to Midgard, for his actions," he told them. Everyone fell silent._

"_What?" Sif breathed. Volstagg, Hogan and Fandral turned to face Loki._

"_Father stripped Thor of his power and Mjolnir, and sent him to Midgard," he told them. "It appears a guard informed the All-Father of our absence and destination, and he came after us. After you left us, Thor quarrelled with Father and insulted him. After that, Father stripped him of his power, his armour and Mjolnir, and sent him down the Bifrost to Midgard."_

_Silence fell as the Warriors Three and Sif took in Loki's tale._

"_We should never have let him go," Volstagg sighed, as Hogan sat down beside Fandral. Eir rose, and fetched a pot of salve for Volstagg's arm._

"_There was no stopping him," Sif replied quietly. _

"_At least we were there to stop him getting himself killed," Eir replied._

"_And at least he's only banished and not dead," Fandral put in. "Which is what we would be if that guard hadn't told Odin where we'd gone."_

_Eir smoothed the salve over the angry red wound on Volstagg's arm, the burned flesh making a crackling noise and making the red-haired warrior squirm. "Ouch!" he growled, as Eir rolled her eyes._

"_Big baby," she murmured softly. "Hold still, this will help your skin to heal."_

_As she finished and rose, cleaning her hand on a cloth laid beside Volstagg, she glimpsed Loki once more staring down at his hand, his jaw clenched. Her heart stung._

"_How did the guard even know?" Volstagg wondered._

"_I told him," Loki's soft voice rang out across the chamber, making all freeze. Eir remembered glimpsing him speaking to one of the guards just before they left the palace, and she frowned. _

"_What?" Fandral demanded, shocked._

"_I told him to go to Odin after we left," Loki confessed. "He should be flogged for taking so long, we should never have reached Jotunheim."_

"_You told the guard!" Volstagg exploded angrily._

"_I saved our lives," Loki replied coldly. "And Thor's. I had no idea Father would banish him for what he did."_

_Sif stood, a desperate hope on her beautiful features. "Loki, you must go to the All-Father and convince him to change his mind," she breathed urgently. Loki tensed, and his eyes blazed._

"_And if I do, then what?" he demanded, snapping at Sif like a wounded dog. "I love Thor more dearly than any of you, but you know what he is. He's arrogant, he's reckless, he's dangerous! You saw how he was today! Is that what Asgard needs from its King?"_

_He walked away, rage in every step as he left the room. Eir stood, calling out to him but he did not turn._

"_He may speak of the good of Asgard, but he's always been jealous of Thor," Sif muttered. Eir turned, eyes already turning on Sif angrily. The warrior woman met her gaze squarely. "You know it is true, Eir."_

"_That may be so, but his love for his brother outweighs any envy he feels," Eir replied icily._

"_We should be grateful to him, he saved our lives," Volstagg added in agreement. _

_Hogan turned to look at them, his grim eyes studying them all intently. "Laufey said there was a traitor in the House of Odin. A master of magic could bring three Jotuns into Asgard…" he trailed off, suggestively. Rage built in Eir as she whirled to face Hogan, disbelieving of what was coming from her old friend's mouth._

"_Loki's always been one for mischief, but you're talking of something else entirely!" Fandral seemed to agree, as Eir stepped forward._

"_Be very careful, Hogan," she growled. "Do not think that my vocation as Healer would stop me from cutting out your poisonous tongue! Do none of you know the man you have fought beside for centuries? Perhaps you should take time to remember before you persecute him for Thor's stupidity," _

_She glared at them all, but Hogan and Sif especially, before she turned and left the room, her skirts floating behind her as she hurried after her lover._


	12. The Tale Of Eir II

_She found him striding towards the weapons vault, below the throne room, and caught his arm when he did not respond to her cries._

"_Loki, wait!" she paused, "What are you doing? Where are you going?"_

"_I need to know," was all he said. She watched him intently, her heart frozen._

"_I won't care," she told him heatedly, framing his face tightly, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I love you."_

"_I know," he told her, his hands coming up to hold her wrists. "But I still need to know the truth."_

_He took her hand, and they walked swiftly to the weapons vault. The air seemed to get colder as they descended, the guards letting them through unchallenged. Loki was the Prince of Asgard after all, and heir to the throne now in Thor's absence, and Eir was soon to become a princess._

_Loki's breath trembled as he approached the Casket of All Winters, Eir coming to a halt slightly behind him, unable to take a step further._

_Dread filled her, and her hand rose and her mouth opened to beg him not to touch the Casket. Even though she had told herself it would change nothing, that it would not dissipate her love for him…._

_She was wrong. Everything would change._

_He closed his hands around the Casket's handles, his hands trembling, and then he lifted it, eyes flashing between his uncovered hands, his breathing shaking as he waited._

_Then a great, familiar voice echoed across the chamber. "Stop!"_

"_Am I cursed?" Loki demanded, his voice harsh, guttural as Eir had never known it before. She waited with bated breath for him to turn around, ignoring the presence of the All-Father behind her._

"_No."_

"_What am I?" Loki asked._

"_You're my son," Odin insisted firmly. Loki turned, and Eir could not restrain her tiny gasp._

_Loki's skin had turned a deep, icy shade of blue, his eyes even down to the whites shone a demonic blood crimson, tribal markings standing out slightly on his once smooth brow._

_His eyes met hers, and her heart broke. But she did not move. Loki's eyes left hers, to raise to his father, stood on the steps of the vault in all his golden glory._

"_What more than that?" Loki asked silkily, his voice dangerously low. His eyes flickered back to Eir's, and she made herself smile at him. The blue and red was already fading away under Odin's spells._

_Tears had filled Loki's eyes, and trembled in his voice as he slowly began to walk towards the All-Father, Eir following slowly in his wake._

"_The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day was it?" he asked. _

"_No," Odin admitted, at last. "In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. Small, for a Giant's offspring, left to die. Laufey's son."_

_Eir's breath shuddered in her throat, as the words slammed into her. Loki was the son of Laufey…?_

_She desperately wanted to step forward, to comfort Loki and to shield him further from any more hurt, but something within her warned her not to._

"_Laufey's son?" Loki repeated, his voice broken. His strong, broad shoulders were bowed and defeated, the mighty master of magic laid low by the truth of his origins. _

"_Yes," Odin sighed, dejectedly._

"_Why?" he suddenly demanded, stepping forward. "You were knee deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?"_

"_You were an innocent child…" Odin began but Loki cut him off._

"_No," he growled. "You took me for a purpose. What was it?"_

_Odin paused, seemingly paralysed, his mouth hanging open slightly. A tremble ran through his still vigorous frame, as he stared down at Loki._

"_TELL ME!" Loki finally screamed, a heartbroken, tortured cry which rang through the vault, making Eir flinch even as she longed to comfort her lover._

"_I thought we could unite our kingdoms, one day. Bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace, through you," Odin finally admitted, as Loki's heart broke further. Eir gasped._

"_What?" he gasped, panting._

"_But those plans no longer matter," Odin continued. _

"_So I am no more than another stolen relic," Loki spat bitterly. "Locked up here, until you might have use of me?"_

"_Why do you twist my words?" Odin asked quietly._

"_You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn't you!" Loki demanded angrily._

"_You're my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth," Odin replied gently, and Eir heard the sincerity in his voice. But his words only seemed to make Loki angrier._

"_W-why because I-I am the monster that parents tell their children about at night!" he retorted. Eir finally found the strength to step forward and try to reach out to her lover, but he shrugged off her hand._

"_No," Odin protested, his strong frame wilting. Alarm rushed through Eir as he began to collapse. But Loki was too caught up in his pain and anguish to realise, as the All-Father sank to the floor, even as Eir rushed to his side. _

"_It all makes sense now, why you favoured Thor all these years," he hissed bitterly. "Because no matter how much you claimed to love __**me**__; you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!"_

_Odin collapsed, his eye closing as Loki finally realised something was wrong. Frantically, Eir felt for the All-Father's pulse, finding it weak but still beating. She closed her eyes, easing her magic into his body, seeking the source of his weakness._

_Loki clutched his father's hand, as he called for help. "Guards! Guards, please help!" _

"_He has fallen into the Odinsleep," Eir said, "Bear him to his chambers and summon the Queen."_

_The guards lifted Odin's body effortlessly, and bore him away, Eir and Loki following in his wake._

* * *

_The guards laid Odin on his bed, reverently, before the Queen burst into their chambers, rushing to her son._

"_Loki? What happened?" she asked desperately. Eir sat by the All-Father's side, her magic reaching out to make sure he was alive and not weakening further. _

"_He has fallen into the Odinsleep, Your Majesty," Eir told her, in the stead of her silent son who simply stared at Frigg as if he had never seen her before._

_Maidens came and removed Odin's robes and washed his face and hands, before leaving him in a sleeping robe, the furred covers of his bed pulled up and over his body._

_All the while Frigg stared at her despondent son, and Eir looked at the All-Father._

_Finally, when they were alone, Frigg spoke. "How did this happen?" she asked quietly, eyes fixed on Loki._

"_We were in the weapons vault," Eir began to explain stiltedly. "And…"_

"_I know the truth, mother," Loki breathed. Frigg's face paled, and she reached up a hand to her son's face, stroking it lovingly._

"_Oh, my son," she whispered. "I am so sorry. Forgive me."_

_And Frigg enveloped her son in her arms, her glittering dress swathing him in its warmth. Eir watched as he hugged back with a sudden desperation as if he was falling apart and only Frigg's embrace could hold him together. Her heart ached for him._

_The golden haze of Sleep began to cover Odin, as Frigg released Loki, and took a seat at Odin's bedside. Eir stood, giving Loki her place, and standing behind him with her hands clasped in front of her._

_Frigg looked to her beseechingly, but Eir could offer little comfort. "He has fallen deep, my Queen," she explained. "I cannot heal his weakness. He must come out of it himself."_

_This was not the first time the King had slipped into the Odinsleep, but it felt different. Stronger, it possessed more of a hold upon him. His aura was weak and faded._

_Frigg read it in her face and nodded, before her gaze went to her son._

_Loki finally spoke for the first time since he told Frigg he knew the truth about his origins. "Why did he lie to me?" he asked, in a pained, quiet voice._

_Frigg glanced up at him, pity and love shining in her eyes. "I begged him to be honest with you from the beginning," she started. "There should be no secrets in a family."_

"_So why did he lie?" Loki asked again, his voice stronger this time._

"_He kept the truth from you so you would never feel different," she told him earnestly. "You are our son, Loki, and we your family. You must know that."_

_Wordlessly, Eir reached out a hand to his shoulder, clasping the strong muscle tightly as he tensed, then relaxed under her touch. Frigg's eyes rose to hers briefly, and she smiled gently._

"_You can speak to him. He can hear and see us even now," Frigg's eyes fell to her husband, somnolent in his bed. _

"_How long will it last?" Loki asked, turning to look at Eir for the first time since they left the vault._

"_I do not know. This time…it is different," she murmured._

"_We were unprepared," Frigg added._

"_I'll never get used to seeing him like this," he admitted quietly. "The most powerful being in the Nine Realms, lying helpless, until his body is restored."_

"_He's put it off for so long now," the Queen murmured. "That I fear…" she reached out and clasped her husband's hand. Her gentle gaze rose once more to Loki. "You're a good son. We mustn't lose hope that your father will return to us, and your brother."_

_Eir watched Loki's jaw clenched and could only imagine how much more insidious his envy was, knowing now what he did. But watching Frigg gaze lovingly at her son, and recalling Odin's sad, gentle words in the vault, she could only see them as Loki's mother and father, no more, no less. Laufey may have sired Loki, but it was Odin and Frigg who loved and raised him. In her heart, Eir knew that they loved both their sons equally, without reserve._

_She only hoped Loki knew it too._

_As they discussed Thor, she watched Loki's jaw tighten again, and his eyes darken. He looked down at his fisted hand, resting on Odin's bed, and then stood. He seemed to be in conflict inside himself for a moment, then he turned and went to leave._

_Eir reached out to him as he passed, whispering his name. He paused, raising his eyes to hers, but for the first time in their lives together, she could not read them._

_But his hand closed tightly around hers, regardless._

_Then the doors opened, and cloaked guards marched in, accompanied by a servant carrying Gungnir. The guards went to their knees, clasping their fists against their chests, in fealty and respect._

_Loki paused, arrested, before glancing back at his mother, Eir stood beside him, wide-eyed._

_The servant knelt before Loki, and held out Gungnir reverently. _

"_Thor is banished," Frigg explained, her strong voice ringing in the silent chamber. "The line of succession falls to you until Odin awakens. Asgard is yours."_

_Frigg's voice never wavered, never faltered as she told the son of Laufey that he was now king of Asgard. Eir watched, her breath caught in her throat as Loki turned, and hands shaking slightly, took Gungnir and held it aloft._

"_Make your father proud," Frigg breathed reverently. "My King,"_

_Loki turned to face her, as she bowed her head. Eir followed suit, dropping to one knee and bowing her head._

"_My King," she murmured, without reservation or hesitation. She heard his bootsteps, then saw them in her line of vision, before his hand held itself out towards her. She took it, raising her head gracefully to meet his gaze._

"_Do you still love me?" he asked, quietly, too quietly for the servants, guards or the Queen to hear. "Despite…everything?"_

_Eir took a deep breath. "You have my love, and my loyalty. Never doubt it," she replied earnestly, holding his gaze. She didn't want him to think she was merely saying so to ensure her position as his future Bride and Queen._

_She loved him. Perhaps even more now she knew the truth, and she would not rest until he accepted it._

_His eyes flickered under her unrelenting stare, his mind searching hers, and he smiled, a tiny, slight smile which made her heart melt. He was still her Loki._

_He brought her hand up to his, and kissed it, lips lingering on her soft skin. He drew himself up, and Eir caught her breath. A new veneer of confidence, of power cloaked him, as he held Gungnir in his left hand, and Eir's hand in his right. He turned her to face the assembled guards and servants, his voice ringing out in the golden chamber._

"_All hail Eir, Queen of Asgard," he called. Eir started, as the men bowed again. She looked to Frigg, but she just smiled and bowed her head once more. Their eyes met, and the former Queen's message could not clearer._

_**Look after him…**_

* * *

_That night, Eir paced Loki's chambers. He had insisted she wait for him there, until he had finished meeting with the commanders of Asgard's armies, to discuss the situation with Jotunheim._

_That had been several hours ago. The sky had darkened, and the stars shone brightly as they wheeled overhead in their eternal, celestial dance._

_Eventually, she went out to the balcony, watching the stars. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly, wondering exactly how her life had changed so drastically._

_Yesterday, she had been Eir, Goddess of Healing and Mercy, part Valkyrie and friend of Thor, God of Thunder, the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three; betrothed to Loki, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief and Lies._

_Now, she was the Queen of Asgard, and wife to the King of Asgard. _

_And she was wearing a dress. Still._

_Her new status as Queen saw her swathed in a white skirted gown, hemmed with emerald green, the bodice of the same rich hue, embroidered with radiant pearls from the ocean of Asgard, her collarbone and sternum covered by delicate white lace, the long, draped sleeves floating from the top of her arms._

_A gown fit for the Queen of Asgard. She shuddered and longed for her leathers._

_Suddenly, warm arms slid around her, pulling her back tightly against a familiar body. _

"_Cold, my love?" Loki murmured in her ear. She relaxed into his arms, tilting her neck to the side so her golden curls fell away, his lips drifting lazily up her pulse._

"_Not anymore," she admitted. She was heated all the way through. "How goes the situation with Jotunheim?"_

_He sighed, and released her. She turned to see him, garbed in his formal armour, the emerald green of his cape matching her gown, the gold and silver metal of his armour gleaming. His horned helmet shone ethereally, making him look like the God he was._

"_Not well," he told her, leading her back into the privacy of his chambers. "It is likely they will attempt an attack soon."_

"_But you will try for peace?" she pressed. "The culprit of the attack on Jotunheim is stripped of his power and banished, surely the Jotuns will agree to a new peace treaty? They know they do not have the strength to prevail against Asgard, not without the Casket…"_

"_You should be my General, not my Queen," Loki smirked, but she sensed his displeasure. _

"_What is it, love?" she asked, frowning. He sighed, placing Gungnir on a cushioned pedestal reverently, before taking off his helmet and running a hand through his raven black hair._

"_I fear the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three are disappointed with my decision not to allow Thor to return from banishment," he explained. Eir frowned._

"_Even I realise that could prove divisive for the kingdom. Some factions might try to displace you in favour of Thor," she mused. _

"_Yes, but I fear they did not see it as such. They could be powerful enemies if their oaths of loyalty prove too weak to hold them," Loki continued. Eir's face paled._

"_Surely not," she breathed. "They're your friends as well as Thor's. They will remain loyal to you."_

"_I hope so, for their sake. I will not hesitate to punish them severely if they break their oaths, Eir," he replied coolly, taking her by the shoulders. "Tomorrow I will visit Jotunheim and attempt to negotiate with Laufey."_

"_Let me come with you," Eir suddenly pleaded. "You need someone at your back."_

_Loki smiled, and stroked her cheek. "No, my love. I need someone I can trust here, to care for Mother and Father, and to keep an eye on the court. I would not trust them in my absence, particularly not our erstwhile friends. You are Queen now, unless war is declared, your place is here."_

"_My place is by your side," she argued, but he cut her off, kissing away her resistance as she moaned, and pulled herself closer. His armour was hard against her softer form, and she could barely breathe in his embrace._

"_I love you, and I need you to trust me," Loki breathed when they parted for a moment. "I must deal with the Jotuns, and I must do it alone."_

_Eir sighed. "Fine," she capitulated reluctantly, as Loki's wayward lips once again drifted across her neck. "You win."_

"_Not something I hear coming from your mouth very often," he grinned, raising his head. _

"_But promise me something, Loki," she whispered, as their eyes met. "Do not let the hatred you bear for your origins dictate who you will become. You are an Asgardian, a King of the Æsir. Make the All-Father proud of you."_

"_I can assure you, my Queen, I have every intention of doing so," he murmured hotly, cutting across her when she opened her mouth to say more. "No, hush."_

_His look changed, turning from cool to intent, desire rising in those piercing eyes, as he pulled her close to him. "I need you now, tonight," he murmured huskily, making her melt._

_And with that he lowered his head and kissed her, hard and fierce, wiping away any thought of argument or resistance. She could not fight as he pulled her to his bed, their clothes melting away at his touch, and she pulled herself astride him, her hands buried in his dark hair._

_When she awoke the next morning, Loki was gone._

* * *

_The whole day, unease filled her. Something was going wrong._

_She feared she knew what it was._

_When Loki returned from Jotunheim, he seemed his usual self, but there was a shadow in his eyes now that Eir knew had not been there before Odin's revelation._

_The All-Father remained deep in the Odinsleep, and the city prepared itself for war with Jotunheim._

_And the city was divided. She knew it clearly._

_Particularly when Lady Sif and the Warriors Three came to Loki's chambers, now hers as well._

_They bowed low, intoning as one. "My Queen."_

"_Volstagg, Fandral," she murmured. "How are your injuries?"_

_The warriors rose, and the red-haired giant and the golden warrior eyed her uneasily. _

"_Good as new," Volstagg answered for both of them._

"_That matters not," Sif stepped forward, meeting Eir's gaze. "Eir, you know something is wrong."_

"_Tread carefully, Lady Sif," she replied coolly._

"_Eir," the warrior woman began again, cautiously. "You know, in your heart, that something is wrong. Loki claims to care for Thor more than any of us, yet he won't bring him home from his banishment, particularly when __**he**__ was the one to mention Jotunheim in the first place. Search your feelings, you know something is out of place."_

"_Sif, regardless of Loki's intentions, Thor still made the choice to go to Jotunheim and disobey his father's commands. What was more, he started the very fight which would tip us into war! You must see that Thor's return would only destabilise this realm when it needs stability the most," Eir replied passionately. "Instead of scheming against Loki, help him! Help him to become the ruler we know he can be!"_

"_No," Sif argued. "No, he is not the ruler we need. Something has changed inside him, Eir, you sense it too. A darkness…"_

_Eir eyed her friends, her entire body tense as a drawn bowstring. As much as she didn't want to admit it, some of what they had said was true. Loki had changed, but not for the better._

"_I will not help you," she began, feeling a deep pain as their faces fell. "but neither will I hinder you."_

_And with that, she turned and left the chamber, walking fast to get away from the stark truth of all that had happened in the past few days._

* * *

_She reached a balcony which overlooked the entire city, and out towards the Asbru Gate, and halted, watching the horizon._

_She stood there, how long she didn't know, watching and waiting for something she didn't know, her breath short in her chest, her mind whirling. Familiar arms slid around her, but she could not take comfort in their embrace now._

"_My love, what is it?" Loki asked quietly. "What is wrong?"_

"_You planted the suggestion to go to Asgard in Thor's mind, didn't you?" she began, feeling him tense. "You knew what he would do."_

"_Yes, I did," he finally agreed, his voice hoarse and cold. Suddenly she was spun around, her gaze pinned by his. "But I did it for this realm. Thor is dangerous and reckless. He would bring war down upon the Nine Realms just to satisfy his need for glory and battle. Is that really what this Realm needed?"_

"_You betrayed your own brother," was all Eir could say. Loki's jaw tightened. _

"_I did it for you, and for this Realm. Everything I have done and will do, is for you and for Asgard," he snarled, as Eir's face paled._

"_What else have you done, Loki?" she asked, quietly cold. "What else will you do?"_

"_What needs to be done," he replied brusquely. Her heart aching, Eir turned away, back to the horizon, back to the peace of the stars. She felt his heat press against her back, his chest against her body as the wind plucked at their clothes and hair. Shuddering breath warmed her neck, and despite all she had learned, she could not stop herself from leaning into his touch._

_His hands caressed up and down her arms, sliding the silk over her skin, before twining tightly around her waist, pulling him back against him. His head lowered, his mouth marking the curve of her neck as he breathed her in. He whispered her name, longingly, against her skin, rising to her lips which she was powerless to deny him. He kissed her heatedly, passion and need pushing aside any obstacles. _

_Regardless of all else, she still loved him and he still loved her. She felt it in his kiss, his strong hands as they strained her to him._

_Until the Bifrost roared into life, and tore them apart once more. _

_They looked to the side, to see the beam of light shoot from the Bifrost chamber, making Eir's heart sink. The Warriors Three and the Lady Sif had done it._

_They had gone to Earth to retrieve Thor._

_Loki's jaw tightened angrily, as he turned to her._

"_Go to my mother and await me there. Heimdall's treachery must not go unpunished," he snarled, before he swept away, emerald cloak flapping in his wake._

"_What will you do?" she called urgently, afraid for her friends, for Heimdall and for Thor. But Loki did not answer._

_His words rang in her mind, making her heart break and sink. _

"_**What else have you done?"**_

"_**What needs to be done."**_

* * *

_Frigg glanced up as her daughter-in-law glided through the doors of Odin's chambers, a soft smile on her lips._

_Until she saw the veiled tears in Eir's clear grey eyes._

"_My daughter…" she began, standing from her perch on Odin's bed, but Eir pulled herself together and shook her head._

"_I came to see how the All-Father is faring today," she replied, deciding not to trouble Frigg with the news of Loki's growing madness and the betrayal of Sif and the Warriors Three._

_Frigg did not move, unconvinced. "He is unchanged, but I sense you are, my Queen," she murmured, moving towards Eir. Without a word, she enveloped Eir in her arms, tightly holding her. "My daughter," she whispered. "My son needs you now more than ever. Whatever has happened, do not doubt that."_

_Strength flowed back into Eir, and she pushed away from Frigg's embrace. With a nod, she turned and swiftly walked back the way she came._

* * *

_She entered the throne room, to find Loki seated on the throne, his helmet shining, Gungnir iridescent in his hand. He looked every inch a King._

_But his gaze was turned inward, to something only he could see, and she guessed what it was._

_He had sent the Destroyer after Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three._

"_Loki," she breathed, diverting his attention. His eyes snapped to hers and widened. "Please, do not do this. Your brother does not deserve this."_

"_Like many you take his side in things," Loki snarled, standing abruptly as Eir ascended the steps of the throne. _

"_I do not. But I do know this is not right. Killing Thor is not for the good of the realm," she hissed fiercely. _

_Suddenly Thor's disembodied voice filtered into the throne room, echoing off the walls._

_**Brother, whatever I have done to wrong you, whatever I have done to lead you to this, I am truly sorry. But these people are innocent, taking their lives will gain you nothing.**_

_**So take mine and end this.**_

_For one moment, Eir thought Loki would recall the Destroyer, as his eye softened. Then it hardened again, and she could almost feel the blow as the Destroyer struck a fatal hit to Thor, who was no longer an Æsir, who was mortal…_

"_What have you done?" she breathed horrified._

_Loki turned away, and sat once more at his throne. He pulled Eir to him, burying his head in her stomach. She was torn between the urge to recoil and the urge to cling to him as sorrow rose up._

_At last, she pushed away, tears dropping from her eyes as she backed away from him, his arms outstretched to her, his eyes hardening yet still glistening with unshed tears._

_Her heart broke._

* * *

_She turned and ran._

_She finally collapsed against a pillar, body bowed over the pain of Loki's actions and her heartbreak, tears glittering in her eyes but remaining unshed, as her mouth opened in a silent scream of despair._

_Eventually her heart slowed and she calmed, the Valkyrie within her rising up, subsuming the healer, soothing her mind, burying her heartache._

_At last she stood tall and strong once more, her long, warrior's strides taking her to Odin's chambers._

_She needed to inform the Queen of Loki's madness._

_But then something walked around the corner of the corridor which made her heart freeze. Eir pressed back into the shadows as Laufey and two Frost Giant warriors stalked towards Odin's chambers, ice daggers clutched in their hands._

_Eir's mind raced. Did Loki know of the intruders? Where was the guard?_

_Silently she called on her magic, and conjured Drengskapr and Sigr into her hands, and stalked after the invaders, the predator prowling after her prey._

_Then they encountered the guards and the fighting started. Eir forced herself to hold back, before rushing down a side corridor and through another doorway, a more secret entrance to Odin's chambers._

_Frigg looked up as she entered. "Eir?" she gaped, as the doors of the chamber suddenly froze._

"_My Queen, Frost Giants have penetrated Asgard-" she began but then the doors swung open violently, revealing Laufey and his warriors. Frigg grabbed Odin's sword while Eir leapt forward, only slightly hindered by her long skirts._

_She ducked under the guard of one Frost Giant, killing him before Laufey's fist smashed into her, driving her to the floor. She blinked, desperate to get her bearings as she heard Frigg's cry of pain as she too was struck down. Her head swam and she felt sick._

_Where was Loki?_

_She was dimly aware of Laufey straddling the All-Father, an ice dagger in his hand, saying something low, and threatening, making Eir's skin crawl but she couldn't make it out. Her head ached and every sound was agony._

_She tried to rise, but her legs would not support her. She collapsed again._

_Suddenly a blast of fire rent the air, and Laufey flew off of Odin's chest. Frantically, Eir raised her head to see Loki, in full armour and helmet, lower Gungnir slightly as he glared coldly down at the Frost Giant._

_His birth father._

"_And your death came by the son of Odin," he hissed, raising Gungnir once more, and fired one last blast, destroying Laufey entirely._

"_Loki," Frigg stirred, rushing to her feet, Eir somewhat slower behind him. "You saved him."_

_Loki held Frigg to him tightly, his gaze going to Eir as she struggled to stand. He released his mother to go to his wife, pulling her up and enfolding her in his arms. She was too weak to resist._

_His lips came down on hers, and she shivered and kissed back, relishing the feel of him._

"_Thank the stars I was able to reach you in time, my love," he breathed, desperately. His gaze rose to Frigg as he helped Eir to stand. "I swear to you, mother, that they will pay for what they have done today."_

"_Loki!" a familiar voice barked, and all three looked round to see Thor, in all his scarlet and silver armour, appear in the doorway, Mjolnir clutched in his fist._

_Frigg rushed to her son and hugged him, but Loki's stance turned defensive, and he raised Gungnir in front of him, herding Eir behind him._

"_Why don't you tell her how you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends, to kill me!" he demanded, advancing on his brother._

"_What?" Frigg gasped._

"_Oh, it must have been enforcing Father's last command," Loki hissed silkily. _

"_You're a talented liar, brother, always have been," Thor growled, raising Mjolnir, the bed of Odin lying between the two brothers._

"_It's good to have you back," Loki smiled. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim."_

_And with that, he blasted Thor through the wall with Gungnir._

_Without another word, he grabbed Eir's hand and towed her out of the chamber, ignoring his stunned mother, as they strode through the corridors of Asgard._

* * *

_Eir fought his grip but it was too strong, almost bruising. He glanced at her, then turned and yanked her into his arms. She fought him but she was still weak from Laufey's blow._

"_Trust me, Eir," he whispered urgently. "I need you to trust me so I can explain. Now come!"_

_He pulled her around and onwards, until they reached a courtyard where Einar awaited them. He swung Eir into the saddle and then swung up himself, imprisoning her in his arms._

_With a squeeze of his powerful thighs, Loki pushed Einar into a gallop, racing through the streets of Asgard and out onto the Bridge, and to the Bifrost chamber._

_Once there, he dismounted and then helped Eir down, leading her by the hand into the chamber._

"_What are you doing?" she asked coldly. Loki ignored her as he inserted Gungnir into the central console, positioning the Bifrost to target Jotunheim, then retrieved it. As the power grew, he stretched out his hand and froze the console, the tendrils of power crystallising and turning to ice, Eir's blood along with it._

_A memory returned, of Heimdall warning them what would happen if the Bifrost Bridge remained open too long._

_It would destroy Jotunheim._

_Loki caught her eye, and a truly insane grin lit his features. "Yes, my love," he hissed. "I will destroy Jotunheim, and that race of monsters forever. At last my father will see me for what I truly am: the superior son, the heir of his crown and legacy, his might and his trust as Thor could never be."_

"_Loki, please, no!" she gasped. She rushed forward but he caught her around the waist and pushed her back. His face transformed into something alien, bestial. She didn't recognise him anymore._

"_You can't stop it!" he snarled, but then they were both distracted as the Bridge sung when someone alighted upon it, and they looked to see Thor running towards them, Mjolnir hefted in his fist. Loki simply smiled. "The Bifrost will build until it rips Jotunheim apart!"_

_It happened too fast. Eir saw Thor rush the great crystalline tree of energy around the console, saw Loki raise Gungnir, felt the power grow…_

_She threw herself in front of Thor, eyes wide and pleading towards her husband. She felt only agonising pain, as she stopped and looked down. Her stomach was burned by Gungnir's power, and she felt the life seeping from her._

_A blast which might only have weakened her was to be the death of her._

_And the unborn child which even then grew in her womb. Eir's eyes filled with tears as she collapsed to the floor, struggling to breathe as an unearthly scream filled the air and warm, strong arms stopped her from falling._

"_Eir…" a familiar voice choked out her name, as she fought for consciousness. "Eir, stay with me."_

_She looked up, her vision blurring, stretching up one shaking hand to her beloved's face, stroking his jaw, his handsome features lit up by the flashing light of the Bifrost as the energy built to lethal levels. She was dimly aware of Thor's presence beside her, but ignored it, reaching out urgently to her love._

"_Stop this now," she gasped. "Stop it…This is not you, Loki. I love you so much…This is not..."_

_She could feel him desperately trying to heal her, but it was too late. Not even Loki's power could heal a wound dealt by Gungnir, and her own power was useless. She had protected Thor, and paid with her life._

_She felt her body weakening, her mind drifting, her eyes growing dark as she slumped back, and her last breath left her body._

_Unknowing that her death would only embed the madness deeper within Loki with all the power grief and love can wield. Did not know that her death would push two brothers apart, and destroy Asgard as she had known it forevermore, and set the man she loved so desperately onto a path of darkness._

_But there is always hope to be found._

_Even as Eir felt her body die, her spirit merely went into slumber until it was time for the Goddess of Healing and Mercy to come forth once more._


	13. Part II: My Queen

In Love With The Darkness

_**A/N: **_**Sorry again for the late update. Life and University just got in the way, then I focussed on 'Lost Before The Dawn' for a bit, then the Khan bug bit after I saw STID, so…here's the belated update. Enjoy.**

* * *

Her head was pounding. Her entire body ached. She didn't know if she was up or down, inside out or outside in. Her entire being was one morass of chaos and confusion, as memory and not-memory swirled and collided, in pained synchronicity with the throbbing of her head.

She supposed it should be ironic that he was her anchor in all this. Him, the personification of Chaos, the God of Mischief and Trickery, that it would be he that brought her back to the light. He was calling her name, softly, his mouth caressing the two syllables of her name like a prayer and a sinful touch all at once. Eira. Eira.

It was her name and yet it wasn't. Two names, so different and so similar, echoed in her head and she just wanted to curl up in a ball and shout at the world to leave her alone.

Gradually, she became aware again. Of more than pain, more than confusion and the agony of her soul as centuries of lost memories slowly reasserted themselves. She felt the cold marble of the floor beneath her back, the softness of the silk against her skin, and the heated strength of the arms cradling her to a chest as hard as rock. A hand smoothed itself across her cheek, as her eyes fluttered reluctantly open.

"Eira…" he breathed in relief, as she blinked, frowning slightly. For a moment, Loki's austerely handsome features had been overlaid by another, all ice-blue skin and heated scarlet eyes, before she had blinked and the image faded away to reveal her…husband. Her lover, her Loki.

Her killer.

The thought distracted her from the pain in her head, as his hands stroked her body soothingly, as she stared up at him. "Loki…" she whispered his name back to him, the word imbued with a million different images, sensations and thoughts, as she flinched away from them mentally. Not now.

There was really only one thing she could possibly do in these circumstances. She hit him. Hard.

Her blow to the side of his head sent him sprawling onto his hip beside her, as he stared at her incredulously. She just glared at him, panting, mindless of the bodies strewn around them in various states of unconsciousness. She'd even forgotten Peregrine.

She went to hit him again, if for nothing more than to get some kind of reaction out of him, instead of him staring at her in shock. She saw his face harden as he caught her wrist, pinning her to the floor beneath him. "What in the Heavens' name was that for?" he demanded furiously, as she struggled, glaring at him.

"You killed me! That's what!" she snapped, and he paled, even as his eyes blazed with fury.

"I never wanted to harm you-!" he replied heatedly, as she eyed him murderously. "You threw yourself in front of Gungnir, I couldn't stop it-"

"I wouldn't have needed to throw myself in front of anything if you hadn't aimed it at your own brother, Loki," she retorted pointedly, ignoring his growl at his foster brother's name.

For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to snap something venomous back, his rage almost too hot to control, but it slowly calmed even as she watched, into a torn longing, as he cupped her face and she forced herself not to soften. "How did-…You should not have died. What happened?" he asked brokenly, and she mentally cursed herself as she did soften into his caress, as her own pain rose up inside of her at the memory his question evoked.

"I was still weak from Laufey's attack," she replied in a small, trembling voice, her strength waning with each word. "And…I was with child."

Loki's breath was a hissed inhalation, full of pain, fury and disbelief, as she met his eye through her own brimming tears. She forced them back, as his hands shook on her body. All her rage drained away, and his with it, as they sat, staring at each other, torn anew by the loss they had only just discovered together, unable to make the first move. Then suddenly, she was in his arms and he in hers, and he was cradling her as she cried quietly, for the lost child she had carried within her, that had effectively killed Eira the first time around, her magic too preoccupied with defending her unborn child to heal her, even though she did not know it until it was too late.

Gradually, her trembling lessened, as she raised her head from Loki's chest and stared up at him, gently stroking his face, and the tears on his cheek. "I am so sorry, Eir," he breathed, but she hushed him with a finger to his lips.

"No," she whispered. "No, do not call me that. My name is Eira now, Eir died a long time ago."

"How much do you remember?" he asked softly, still cradling her in his arms and she felt no desire to move away.

"Almost everything, but it's…fragmented and somehow incomplete. It'll take a while for my mind to process everything it's forgotten and relearned in such a short space of time," she murmured, before meeting his gaze. "For what it is worth, Loki, I forgive you."

Loki pulled her back into his arms at that, and she just held him, ignoring the trembling man in her arms. She had forgiven him, now he needed to forgive himself; task she was not certain he was capable of accomplishing. Seven hundred years of self-loathing, of pain and rage and anguish, all of it culminating in centuries of murder and destruction, all in her memory.

She wasn't certain anyone could forgive themselves that.

So she just held him instead, focusing on the feel of him in her arms, still so novel and yet familiar at the same time. She pressed a kiss to his hair, before he straightened slightly, as the sound of footsteps echoed in the hall outside.

Loki pulled himself upright, helping her up, but even as tired as she was, she didn't miss the wince as he straightened, and she looked down to find a gaping hole in his tunic, the pale skin beneath marred by a large, bleeding gash, the skin around it raw and burned.

"Loki," she hissed, feeling the heat against her palm as she pressed her hand to it, earning another wince of pain from him. "How did this happen? In seven hundred years, none have been able to injure you-"

She caught his eye, and narrowed her own at the look in them, before glancing around at the fallen Resistance fighters at their feet, as the pieces slotted together in her mind. "You did it on purpose," she muttered. "You let them get close enough, then let them injure you so it would awaken my magic. You knew I couldn't stand by and watch you harmed."

"I have no idea what you mean, my love," he told her calmly, as she glared at him.

"Don't play the innocent with me," she snapped. "You haven't been innocent since you learned to walk."

Loki smirked at that, as their servants burst through the doors, too little, too late. "Took them long enough!" Eira muttered under her breath, as Loki's weight sank against her a little too much. He was losing too much blood, even for him. "You!" she gestured to one of the servants imperiously, beckoning him forward. "Resistance fighters broke in and attacked us. Deal with these men; bury the dead and treat the wounded, but keep them contained. The King has been wounded, I need fresh water and cloths, now!"

"So forceful, my love," Loki chuckled weakly in her ear. "No magic?"

"My magic is still too weak to take a healing now," she replied curtly. "It'll have to be the old-fashioned way until I am recovered. Now come on!"

Before she could urge him on any further, he collapsed fully this time, and she looked down at his unconscious body in exasperation. "You always have to be difficult," she muttered to herself. "So dramatic," she breathed, before turning to two of the burliest servants. "Help me with him!"

* * *

Fighting back her own weariness, she directed the men to take Loki to her bedchamber, only to find Anna's unconscious body crumpled beside her bed. She knelt at her side, feeling for a pulse. To her relief, the handmaiden's pulse was strong and regular.

"Take her to her room, she is to rest until I summon her," she ordered one of the two menservants as they carefully laid Loki on her bed, before she stood and swept to Loki's side.

"Yes, my Queen," they intoned, before Anna was swept by one of them and carried out. A kitchen girl hurried in with the cloths and water she'd ordered, before curtseying and hurrying out when Eira dismissed her.

She took Loki's robes off with difficulty, slinging them over her stool, before she set to cleaning the wound on his torso. It was no longer bleeding, but it still looked painful as she washed away the blood. It would need magical help if it was to heal correctly.

Leaving the bloodied cloth in the bowl of water at her side, she used the rest to bandage the wound, before setting the detritus from her work aside and she just sat, beside her…husband. He was her husband, in fact and in spirit, as she stroked away the long hair caught across his face. He looked so pale, so vulnerable as he lay beneath her hands, and she felt herself shiver.

He would be unconscious for a while. She rose, and fighting down the shaking of her limbs, she undressed, casting the bloodstained gown aside and running a wet cloth over her body, before brushing her hair out and slipping on a simple green robe embroidered with gold. She took a seat beside Loki once more, as she leaned over him, stroking his forehead.

Despite her physical exhaustion, she could feel her power, her innate strength returning, and she shuddered again at the thrill of magic in her veins, no longer untamed and wilful, but her own, responding to her will as it always had. Taking a deep breath, since she was now all but lying down and resting, she reached down and placed her hand against his wound.

Calling forth her magic felt as easy as slipping a familiar, well-worn garment over her head. It poured forth, despite her exhaustion, and into Loki, seeking out his wound, knitting together severed muscles, restoring blood flow and sealing ruptured skin, before commanding the rejuvenation of the ruined skin around the gash, now a pink line of his skin which would eventually fade. When she pulled back, she gasped, drenched with sweat but not as drained as the last time, as Loki stirred beneath her hand.

"Eira?" he breathed questioningly, as she smiled tiredly.

"Here, my love. I've healed your wound," she murmured, as he shifted to look up at her with concern. "Although next time you try to manipulate me, darling, I will make you heal normally next time, and draw out the discomfort for weeks!"

"I am repentant," he replied firmly, and she snorted.

"Liar," she countered lightly, as he chuckled, and pulled her further down the bed and into his arms. She felt his smug satisfaction and rolled her eyes.

"You let me into your bed," he told her intently, as she sighed and looked up at him.

"I think this little game of ours has become irrelevant. I needed somewhere to place you while I did my work," she replied archly. "Don't go getting a swollen head."

He chuckled. "You've certainly returned with a vengeance, my love," he bent his head to hers, kissing her deeply, as she moaned and shifted beneath him, as he reached into her robe and clasped her leg, hauling it up and around his hip and inserting his thigh between them, the hard muscle riding hard against the juncture of her thighs. She gasped against his lips as pleasure washed through her, but she was too tired. The healing had only increased her exhaustion.

Loki sensed her tiredness, drew back and simply held her, as she lay quietly in his arms. Content with their closeness, neither spoke until Eira broke the silence.

"I am sorry, my love. I failed you," she breathed, prompting him to stare at her, puzzled. "Perhaps if I had been stronger, if I had fought harder, none of this would have happened."

"Eira," he sighed, half-warning, half-saddened by her thoughts. Eira continued determinedly. He needed to hear this.

"You let your past, the way you perceived your heritage, to dictate who you became," she whispered. "Instead of deciding for yourself what you should be, you became merely what others said you were. I should not have let you, I should have fought harder to keep you from the darkness-"

"Hush, now. Rest my love," he cut her off firmly, as she stared at him, his gaze more open and troubled than she suspected he preferred, as his hand stroked her loose hair. "It has been a trying day for us both."

"This is not the end, Loki," she told him sternly. As he looked at her questioningly, she simply nestled closer to him and closed her eyes. "Do not think that because I have regained my memories that I shall meekly fall in with your plans, my love. Too much has changed me, and I have experienced a life of suffering as much as a life of joy. This planet, these people, are mine to protect and I will find a way to break your control over them. I will give them back their freedom."

"Then the game is set, my love," he whispered back, making her smirk before exhaustion took over, and she was barely aware of him drawing the covers of them both, cocooning her in silk warmed by his body and the strength of his arms around her. His last words followed her into her dreams, as just for one night, she savoured the peace of being whole, of being herself again, at last.

"_My Queen…"_

* * *

_**A/N: **_**To those wanting a lemon, it will be in the next chapter. I just didn't have the energy to write one into this chapter, despite my original plan to do so.**

_To be continued..._


End file.
